STUDENT TRAVEL ARCHIVE
  
 

 

 

On to Osaka!!!
By Nanga'ah Ndumu


Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue

Last May of 2003, the S.S. Universe Explorer docked in Osaka, Japan and I stayed for five days. My first day in Osaka, I went to a baseball game in the Osaka Dome with my roommate. However, that wasn't until later in the evening. Before that, in the early afternoon, I just walked around the shopping area for a few hours until it was time to go to the game. Then, my roommate and I met up at the ship to go to the game. Before we went, though, we were hungry, so we looked for a cheap place to grab a bite to eat. We found a place a few blocks from the ship that was on the way to the subway that had good food at a decent price. For the equivalent of about $6.00 USD, we got a bowl of rice mixed with vegetables and meat. It was simple, but hardy and filling.

The Osaka Dome looked very much like any other Professional Baseball stadiums, except that most of the characters for advertisements were of course Japanese characters. And of course the announcer was speaking Japanese, so I was basically following the game only by actually watching it. What was interesting was that Japanese music wasn't played, but instead, popular American music was, such as 50 Cent, and some traditional baseball songs. Besides watching the game, I also made some new friends with three Japanese men. We struck up a conversation, and afterwards they bought me several souvenirs to remind me of my baseball outing (a stuffed animal, a baseball balloon, etc). They spoke decent English, which is good, because my Japanese skills were sorely lacking. They said it was to welcome me to their hometown. They ended up riding the subway back with me, and we went to a club with some other students. I didn't stay for that long, but it was fun nonetheless.

Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue

The second day in Osaka, I bought an all day pass for the subway, and just went exploring the whole day. Half of the time, I would just get off on a stop, and not have any idea of where I was going or what I would find. One of my favorite spots in Osaka is Shinsaibashi, which is downtown. It is a huge downtown shopping area, with just about every type of store imaginable. I walked around there for hours, until my feet hurt a bit and I was hungry. I used this opportunity to go to an Internet café so that I could rest my feet, and catch up with my family and friends back home. After spending the whole day riding the subway and walking downtown, I grabbed a quick meal, then headed back to the ship.

Some friends wanted to go out, so we went to a Karaoke bar. It was much different from the ones in the states. A group of people basically rented a room where there was a TV and a selection of songs to choose from. Then for the next hour or so, we just sing all together (basically to each other). There is no audience, or people joining in and cheering you on (except for the people you came with). It was quite the experience. Later on we went to a club. I still don't know what traditional Japanese music sounds like. So many of the clubs played American music. This club played Hip Hop and R&B, with a bit of salsa. I didn't realize that our music was so popular in Japan!

Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue

The third day in Osaka, I took a bus trip to Hiroshima to see the Hiroshima Atomic Bomb museum. It had much the same effect on me as the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb museum that I had seen a few weeks earlier. It was harrowing, depressing, but nonetheless educational. However, to be honest, there wasn't really a need to see both Atomic Bomb museums. The fact that I had already seen the one in Nagasaki was enough, because they were so similar in content. The trip cost me $85.00 USD (for admission and transportation, since it was a few hours away), which would have been totally worth it, had I not visited the Nagasaki Museum (for $5.00 admission). However, the garden that we visited after the museum was gorgeous. It is called the Shukkein Garden, and it was like a little piece of Zen Heaven with bonsai trees everywhere. It was beautiful, serene, and so calming. If I had something like that in my backyard, I would probably spend the majority of my free time at home there.

Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue

My fourth day in Osaka was spent visiting the Osaka Castle and seeing the Cherry Blossom festival. I didn't take a tour of the inside of the castle; I only saw the outside. At one point, I sat down on one of the benches that was provided, and was petting some dogs that a friendly Japanese man had. After a few minutes, I decided to resume walking, and upon standing up, discovered that I had sat in some gum. I heard a ripping sound and turned around to see it glaringly white, on the back of my dark gray pants. I tied my black jacket around my waist, and went to ask someone where the bathroom was (Toire doko desu ka?). Inside, I must have looked a sight as I twisted and contorted my neck and arms, trying to pick and dabble at the gum on my backside with a damp paper towel. After a few unsuccessful minutes of this, a young woman about my age came in and saw me struggling. I tried to communicate my helplessness in the situation by pointing to the gum and throwing up my arms in despair as if I didn't know what more to do. She nodded sympathetically, and spoke Japanese, motioning for me to just wait right there. I had few options since not only did I have the gum stain, but now a wet area where I had tried to remove it. I didn't want to walk around Osaka for the rest of the day like that. I was already standing out since I wasn't Japanese, or even Asian, so why attract more attention with a big white mark on my backside? And I didn't want to walk around with my jacket still tied around my waist, and I didn't feel like going back to the ship to change. So what else to do but wait while she got some help?

Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue

A few minutes later, she came in with an elderly Japanese lady who also clucked sympathetically and started speaking Japanese. None of the ladies spoke English, and I memorized all of about 10 Japanese phrases. I pretty much just pointed to the gum. The younger woman had to leave, so I thanked her for her help (in getting more help) by saying Domo arigato. Now it was just the elderly woman and I. She examined the gum some more, then tried to wipe it with a damp paper towel just like I did. Again, I must have looked a sight with me slightly bent over leaning on the wall, and a strange woman trying to wipe gum from the back of my pants. I have to say, I felt more than slightly foolish. When that didn't work so well, she made a motion for me to take off my pants and give them to her. I thought I had misunderstood what she meant, so I just stared at her. She did it again, motioning for me to give her my pants, she would clean them, and bring them back. I hesitated, so she motioned that she would take off her apron and I could wear it in the meantime (she worked at a nearby food stall). I still hesitated, but then I relented. I mean, she was trying to help, and what was she going to do with my pants anyway? She wasn't running some scam to rid unsuspecting foreigners of their pants! So after these and more thoughts ran through my head, we traded pants for apron, and I waited in one of the stalls. She brought them back about 10 minutes later, with most of the stain gone. I was so happy that I could walk around now without the stain, that I kept bowing and thanking her. She kept bowing and telling me that I was welcome, so for a few seconds, we were both just smiling and bowing to each other!
Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue

After that adventure, I decided to hop back on the subway and go to the Cherry Blossom festival, where I spent several hours. It was so beautiful. The flowers were in full bloom, in pink and white. There were hundreds of people there, taking pictures, eating, shopping, etc. There were so many vendors and food stalls. At the suggestion of a nice Japanese woman (who thankfully spoke English), I tried some Okonomiyaki (made of cabbage, fried egg, squid, and what looked and tasted like Canadian bacon), and Tokoyaki, (little round balls of octopus meat). They both sound strange, but were actually delicious. After spending a few hours there, I took the subway back to the ship and went to bed. I was exhausted.

My final day in Osaka, I shopped for last minute gifts, music for myself, and most importantly, food. Again, the late-night munchies are not relegated only to college students on land. I had a blast trying to guess what I was buying, and the ingredients. I was also fascinated by the products that Japan had, but the U.S. didn't. For example, there were strawberry and also banana flavored Kit Kat bars. I had to bring some back for my family and friends to try.

My days in Osaka were exciting, fulfilling, and adventure-filled and the best memories I have are of the amazing, helpful people that I met.

Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue
Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue
   
Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue
Photos Provided by Centro Linguistico
Internazionale Sorrento Lingue

 

Pusan, South Korea
By Nanga'ah Ndumu

From April 7th to April 11th 2003, the S.S. Universe Explorer was docked at Dadaepo Passenger Terminal in Pusan (aka Busan), South Korea. We had just departed Nagasaki, Japan, and I was eager to get a different taste of the Orient. Busan is the second-largest city, and also the principle port of South Korea. It is also the only city to have escaped capture by the communists during the Korean War. The average temperature in Busan during April is 66°F, so the weather was mild, and flowers were in bloom everywhere.
I'm having frozen yogurt at Baskins Robbins with one of my friends from the ship, Bryan

South Korea is home to 47.9 million people, with very little cultural or racial variation. More than 70% live in urban areas, while some mountainous regions remain nearly pristine. The religions of South Korea include Buddhism, Protestant, Catholic, and different indigenous religions. Though not actually organized religions, both Confucianism and Shamanism play important roles in the Korean religious experience. Confucianism is actually a system of ethics that lives on as a kind of ethical bedrock in the minds of many Koreans, even those who have converted to Christianity.

Upon arriving in Pusan, the first thing that I had to do was exchange my American dollars for Korean Won. After doing that, I decided to walk around a bit (I was still in the Dadaepo area). I was in a type of a mall area, and one of the first things I saw was a Baskins Robbins! It was a nice reminder of the states, so a friend and I ordered some ice cream to see if it tasted about the same (it did!). Then, a few of my friends and I decided to take the bus to the Jagalchi Fish Market, which we had heard so much about. Most of the action takes place before 6:00 am (catches unloaded from boats, haggling between boat captains and buyers, etc.), but since I'm not a morning person, I missed all that. I arrived there in the early afternoon, and walked around looking at the various fish and seafood (lobster, crab, eel, mussels, etc.) that was being sold. Some of my classmates picked some out, and had it prepared for them, but I wasn't in the mood for seafood. I just wanted to have a look around. Keep in mind that I had only memorized about seven Korean phrases, so communicating was kept to a minimum. When asked whether I wanted something (well, I assumed that is what they were saying!), I simply smiled and shook my head, saying, No, thank you (Aniyo, putak hamnida).
This downtown Busan, around Nampodong

Two instances made my visit to the Jagalchi Fish Market memorable. The first is when one of the vendors chased me around with a lobster. I had stopped at his stall and was just looking when all of a sudden he picks up one of his lobsters and extends it out to me. I smile and say No thank you (in Korean), and he keeps speaking Korean and thrusts it a few more inches toward me. I repeat myself and start to walk away when he starts following me with the lobster. Startled, I put a little pep in my step and walk faster, but he is right behind me, chasing me with the lobster. After a few seconds, he stops, but not before his fellow vendors, my fellow classmates and a few customers get a laugh out of the show. To be fair, he was smiling the whole time, and seemed to be doing it in good humor, not to be mean. A few days later, I found out that my biology professor from the ship was there, and had seen the whole thing. I had to do some explaining as to why I, a biology major who had done three internships, one of them involving working very closely with lobsters and crabs, had run from a Korean man chasing me with lobster. My only defense was that I was caught by surprise. During my internship, the lobsters were in a barrel, and I picked them up when I got ready. They were not thrust toward me. Nonetheless, my professor thoroughly enjoyed recounting the tale to others.
Buddhist temples in Beomosa

Then shortly after that, when I'd had a few minutes to regroup, some Korean ladies who were there selling fish approached me. They were speaking in Korean, and apparently weren't saying any of the seven phrases that I had learned. After I tried to express to them that I don't understand, one of them raised her hand to my hair, and paused, questioningly. I took this to mean she would like to touch my hair, so I told her Ye (which means yes). Though I didn't particularly like the idea of two ladies who worked at the Fish Market touching my freshly washed and styled hair (I did this before arriving at each new port), I didn't want to seem impolite. I knew they were curious, because there weren't many Black people in Busan (though as my shipmates later told me, there were quite a few in the capital, Seoul). After a few seconds of running their fingers through my twists, and talking among themselves, their curiosity was satisfied, and I left (hoping my hair didn't now smell like fish).

The rest of the first day and most of the second day, I spent walking around and shopping in Nampodong (which is in the same area as Jagalchi). I didn't buy much, but it was interesting nonetheless. I did buy some music Cd's, though, and also some food, which was great. One of my favorites was this pastry that was filled with something like brown sugar and then fried. It was so amazingly good that I would eat 3 or 4 at a time, unable to help myself. I never found out the name of it until I got back to the states and asked some Korean friends. They told me it was called Ho Dou (spelling may be wrong).
Buddhist temples in Beomosa

I spent most of the third day on a field trip visiting the A-Dong Hospital and University. It was a guided tour and I learned about the history of the Hospital and University, and also had a chance to compare the health care system with that of the States and also with the previous countries I had visited. After that, I was hungry, so I decided to treat myself to an authentic Korean meal at a restaurant. I don't remember the name of it, but I went in, removed my shoes (also the custom when entering someone's home), and was shown to a table. The décor of the restaurant was traditional, so that included sitting on pillows on the floor in front of a low table (called a bapsan or literally, rice table). I couldn't really understand the menu, so the waitress made a suggestion by pointing to something, and I agreed by nodding my head (after checking the price to make sure I could afford it).

Well the food came, and it was worth every Won! I had a big bowl of rice, some Kimchi, and about 12 accompanying side dishes and spices! Kimchi (a staple at every Korean table), is basically grated or chopped vegetables (usually cabbage), mixed with various other ingredients- notably chili, garlic, and ginger- and left to ferment in an earthenware pot. It has a raw, tangy taste, and is very spicy (though milder versions can be made). Some of the other dishes freaked me out, like what looked like sea horses, and the little whole fried fish. These fish were so small, that they were just cooked whole (head, eyes, and all!). However, I had told myself that I would try every dish at least once, so I had to go through with it. The waitress brought me a fork and spoon after watching me struggle with the chopsticks, and I thanked her, but continued using them. I was determined to get the hang of it.

Still at Beomosa, a view of the countryside

About halfway through the meal, 3 Korean businessmen from a nearby table invited me to join them. They had all at one point worked in or visited the U.S., so they spoke English, which was welcome, since my Korean was sorely lacking. They insisted that I taste some of their Bek Se Ju (Korean wine made from rice). I took a small amount, and they were all interested in my reaction, repeatedly asking if I liked it. Satisfied that I did, they then asked me to eat with them. Again, I was surprised and touched by their generosity and hospitality, so I accepted. I got up from my table and went to sit with them, and this is when I noticed the Korean dining etiquette. There are no serving utensils. Everyone just sticks his own personal chopsticks (that have been in his mouth) in the food. Each person has his or her own bowl of rice, but then the rest of the accompanying dishes are for everyone. So, one just takes from the dish and puts it in his bowl of rice to mix up, or he takes it straight to his mouth. This surprised me at first (the informality and the apparent lack of care about germs), then I thought more about it. Most people eating together like that are family, so they probably don't care too much about germs and such. However, these were perfect strangers, and when I inquired about the serving utensils, they informed me that there were none, and none were needed. This made me a bit uncomfortable, so I ended up pretty much sticking to my bowl of rice and eating very little of the side dishes. When asked about this, I just replied that I had already eaten the same dish at my own table before I joined them. Then I would eat from a side dish that I didn't see them frequenting as often as some of the others. I didn't want to offend people who were being so warm and hospitable towards me. Well, it ended up preparing me, because upon returning to the States, I made friends with a local Korean family from Seoul, and when they started inviting me over to eat with them, there were no surprises. Now, when there are three other sets of chopsticks digging into the same Kimchi that I'm eating, I'm used to it.
Still at Beomosa, a view of the countryside

The dinner with my new friends was very relaxed and comfortable, and they were perfect hosts. They were curious about me and asked many questions, and also shared about their lives. When it was time to go, they refused to let me pay for the meal that I ordered, instead declaring that they would pay. When I protested, they paid anyway, insisting that it was the Korean Way. Well, I'm not sure if that is in fact the Korean Way to treat visitors, but it was generous nonetheless. After dinner, we all said goodbye and went our separate ways. By this time, it was late, so I just went back to the ship.

My fourth day on the ship, I took the subway to Beomeosa to visit some temples. I went with one of my friends, Jamal (who was one of the librarians on the ship), and two other friends from the ship. We spent several hours there looking at the beautiful Buddhist temples. However, one thing that confused me is that the writing on many of the temples seemed to be Chinese, not Korean. I never got an answer as to why, because that is not one of the seven Korean phrases that I learned to say

My korean feast at the restaurant!

My fifth day in Busan, was spent doing some last minute shopping and stocking up on food to eat on the ship (the late night munchies are universal to college students, weather at sea or on land). It was an adventure buying food and only having a slight clue as to what it is (some type of chocolate candy, instant tea, noodles, chips?) or what is in it. I'm blessed not to have any food allergies, so I was just going wild, buying a bit of everything. I was stocking up here because I knew that soon, I was going to be at sea for about a week and a half straight and I would get the munchies in between meals. When I finally got on the ship and left Pusan, I was exhilarated (I never thought I would get to see Korea), a bit sad (I wasn't ready to leave yet), and anxious (to see the next port: Osaka, Japan). My time in Pusan was memorable, filled with beautiful sites, warm people, very different, but tasty food, and a few comedic moments. Next time I visit South Korea, though, I want to make it a point to visit Seoul. My shipmates who went said it was so great, and that New York City has nothing on Seoul. I plan to see it for myself one day.

 

The Adventure continues to Nagasaki, Japan
By Nanga'ah Ndumu

The S.S. Universe Explorer was docked at Matsugae Wharf in Nagasaki, Japan from April 1st to April 5th 2003. My first day in Nagasaki, Japan, I almost didn’t want to leave the ship. It was late morning/early afternoon, and the weather was dreary. It was raining, and the weather was a bit depressing. The following four days, even when it wasn't raining, the weather was a bit cool. However, this was my first day in Japan, and I wasn't going to lose any time. I didn’t have any yen, so I spent the first two hours in a bank exchanging money. It took so long because most of the other passengers also had to exchange their money, and there were only a few banks within walking distance to choose from. That was the first thing I had to do because obviously I couldn’t do much without money. The wait was long, but the workers at the bank were very efficient, considering that a couple hundred students had just come into the branch needing to exchange money.

Throughout my stay in Nagasaki, I found the Japanese people to be friendly, accommodating, honest and curious. When I was asking for directions for example, they would struggle with their English while I struggled with my Japanese, and they were very patient. The Japanese follow an honor system and it was evident when sometimes I would be out with friends (perhaps at a restaurant or something). On more than one occasion, one of them would leave behind something expensive like a digital camera, and a Japanese waiter would actually be chasing us down the street to return it. Something else that astounded me was how people didn’t use bicycle locks. I asked about this, and they seemed surprised that I would think they need one. They just assumed their bikes would be there when they returned. The Japanese also were very curious and open, asking us questions about the states, and loving the opportunity to practice their English. .

After I had some yen, I decided to just tour around the city with Jamal, the librarian from the ship. We walked around for about 3 hours, going to different museums, gardens, and temples. One of the most interesting museums that we visited was one that specialized in tortoise shell items. There were tortoise shell hair accessories, jewelry, mirrors, etc. Though I'm a bit of an animal rights activist, I had to admit that the items were quite beautiful. I also enjoyed Glover Garden, so named after Thomas Glover, a Scottish merchant. It is an open air museum that exhibits mansions of former Western residents of Nagasaki. It is located on the hill where Western merchants settled down after the end of Japan's ERA of seclusion in the second half of the 19th century. Right in front of Glover Garden is Oura Catholic Church, which was constructed in the last years of the Edo Period in 1864 after Japan's ERA of seclusion came to an end and Western merchants started to settle down in Nagasaki. The church was built exclusively for Nagasaki's foreign community, as the Japanese themselves were not allowed to practice Christianity until 1872. After a few hours of touring the city, Jamal and I returned to the ship for lunch (and to take a rest). Although we wanted to taste some authentic Japanese food, we also realized that we had a few more days, so there really was no rush. Plus, we were nearing the end of the voyage, and Japan was the most expensive country we were visiting. Later on in the voyage, we would go to Osaka, Japan. Well, after we ate, we decided to just play basketball on the ship. We played for about 3.5 hours, and afterwards, we were both so tired, we just decided to each go to sleep. By this time, it was late, and dark, and we didn’t feel like going out.

I The second and third days, I went out with some of my friends, and again, spent the whole day exploring the city. We went to more museums, parks, and made the discovery of the 100 yen store, which is the Japanese equivalent of the Dollar Store here. Actually, at that time, 100 yen was actually a little less than a dollar, so it was even a better deal! The 100 yen store was one of my favorite places because other things in Japan could be so expensive, and also because they offered so many different products like food, cosmetics, house wares even clothes! I loved the 100 yen store because though Japan was expensive, it was one of the few exceptions. While walking downtown, I also wandered into Shinchimachi, which is Japan's oldest Chinatown, established in the 17th century. Over the centuries, Shinchimachi's residents have given the city of Nagasaki a Chinese touch not seen in any other of Japan's major cities. After walking around the downtown area, I went to Oranda-zaka ("Dutch slope"), which refers to the steep streets of a pleasant hillside residential area of Nagasaki. Western merchants, mostly from the Netherlands, settled in the area in the second half of the 19th century.

My fourth day in Nagasaki was the most memorable. The weather seemed to foreshadow what my mood would be like in a few hours. Again, it was raining, and dreary, and depressing. I briefly contemplated staying on the ship, but then decided that this outing I had planned needed to be carried out. I knew that later, I would regret it if I missed the opportunity. That was the day that I visited the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum. At 11:02 A.M. on August 9, 1945, the explosion of an atomic bomb devastated Nagasaki, causing the deaths and injuries of tens of thousands of innocent people. Visiting the museum was one of the most emotional experiences that I had throughout the voyage. The photographs, coupled with the harrowing testimonies of survivors (especially children), made me feel a range of emotions, from being indignant, to being angry, to being humbled, to an irrational feeling of guilt (at being American). I spent about 3 hours total in the Bomb Museum, and when I left, I was in such a somber mood. Afterwards, it was still light outside, but I didn’t feel like doing anything else. I just went back to the ship, and let everything that I had seen, heard and felt sink in. I just had to let it marinate.

My last day in Nagasaki, I just did some last minute gift shopping, went to an internet café, and ate some more delicious Japanese food. Half the time that I ate out at a restaurant, I didn’t know what I was ordering; I would simply point at a picture of something that looked good. When it was time to leave Nagasaki, I was a little sad, but also looking forward to the next stop, Pusan, Korea. However, I knew that I would miss the friendly, curious people, the delicious food, and the beautiful sights in Nagasaki. During a different season, I probably would have missed the weather also!.


MAgical Madras
By Nanga'ah Ndumu

Last month, I shared what I experienced in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania. This month’s article will share my adventures in “Magical Madras” India. Madras, which is in the south of India, is also known as Chennai. It is one of the mercantile ports developed during the British colonial period and is also the capital of the state of Tamil Nadu. The southern states are less influenced by the Moslem and British forces, but at the same time, are oriented to the tradit ional sea trade of the Indian Ocean. The South is culturally more “pure”, and yet fairly cosmopolitan. I found the people to be quite hospitable and warm. “South” in India shares some of the same connotations with “South” in the U.S. – the pace is slower, and some say the life is richer and less hectic.

The S.S. Universe Explorer arrived in Madras on March 15, 2003 and left 5 days later on the 19th. One major advantage I had is that most of the people that I encountered spoke English (though India as a country has hundreds of languages and dialects, the two principal ones are English and Hindi). Those (too short) five days were some of the most amazing in my life. My first day in India was, to say the least, mind opening. Simple everyday tasks (i.e. getting a taxi) took more of my physica l and mental energy than usual. Upon disembarking the ship, I decided to find an internet café so I could alert my family/friends of my safe arrival, and also phone an Indian family, the Arokiasamys, and alert them of my arrival. A contact of my mine here in the states knows them, and wanted me to at least know a few people during my stay in India.

Well, as soon as the students are getting off the ship, the auto rickshaw drivers were approaching us and asking where we wanted to go. You see, they are expecting us because the Semester at Sea voyage stops by Madras twice a year (on roughly the same dates), for the fall semester and also for the spring semester. And this voyage has been going one for decades, so they were eagerly anticipating the arrival of over 600 American students. Even if our destination was within very close walking distance, we were sometimes told that it was far, and needed to take a rickshaw taxi. This was all taking place with anywhere from (at least) 10-20 drivers, all talking over one another, and promising the best price, which was sometimes 4, 5, 6, 7, or more times the fair price. They were relentless, and even after you said that you knew where you were going and how to get there, they still followed you and asked you to ride with them. (A few days later, one of the rickshaw drivers followed me for about 10 minutes before finally giving up). Most of the time, being polite and repeatedly saying “No, thank you” doesn’t work. They see foreigners, and see dollar (or should I say “rupee”?) signs. I finally learned to say “No, thank you”, once, and just keep moving. If they wanted to keep following me, well, that was their business.

I accidentally stumbled upon the internet café by just walking (very purposefully, looking like I knew exactly where I was going). I wound up in a kind of bazaar area, with restaurants, and other business signs, some in English, and some in an Indian language (Tamil or Hindi, maybe). When I saw the English internet café sign, I went in, used it, and let the Arokiasamys know I was in the area and would like to meet with them..

My next mission was to go shopping; this was a multi purpose endeavor. I thought it would be a great way to meet people, see the area, and buy some of the beautiful Indian clothes that I have seen and admired for so long on the Indian women who live in the states. By this time, I had returned back to the ship for a quick rest, so I had to deal with the cluster of rickshaw drivers again. I was with two other friends, and we got a taxi, and told him that we wanted to go to Spencer’s, and T. Nagar shopping center. He informed us that they were both closed. We knew what the deal was: he wanted to take us to a different store where he had an arrangement with the owner to get a “kickback” (a percentage of the money we spent, his reward of bringing in customers). We argued with him for a while, trying to convince him to take us where we wanted. Finally he said ok. He took us to 2 or 3 different shops, pleaded with us to just go in a look, and then he would take us where we wanted to go. To make a long story short, we never ended up where we wanted to go, but instead where he wanted to take us. Finally, we decided to get out and walk and explore for ourselves, and that is when we found ourselves in Pondy Bazaar. We never made it to either T. Nagar or Spencer’s. And neither was closed, a few other friends later told us that they were there th at day.

Here is where we hit the jackpot. It was almost like a farmer’s market, very crowded, and a bit noisy. On the outer edges were shops selling fabric, jewelry, house wares, etc. All around me there were beautiful women in the traditional sari, or salwar kameez clothing, many wearing fresh jasmine garlands in their hair. My friends and I received a few curious stares, but for the most part, people just seemed busy, and went about their business. I loved it because it was so authentic, and not at all touristy like the shops the rickshaw drivers tried to take us to. It was just regular Indian people going about their daily routine , shopping, mingling, working, etc. We shopped around for a little while, when next came one of the highlights of my trip to Madras.

That day was the celebration of the Hindu holiday called “Holi”, and part of the activities included getting colored water thrown on you. Luckily, that didn’t happen to me, but later on I saw some of the other students with pink/blue/ yellow hair and clothes. One of the traditions on this day includes getting “blessed” by an elephant. I was told that Hindus believe that if an elephant kisses you on your forehead, it is considered a blessing.

Well, right there in the middle of Pondy Bazaar was an elephant. Just standing there like it was the most normal thing in the world. Attention was quickly focused on my friends and I, probably because we obviously were not Indian. One of the men handling the elephant asked me to get up and sit on the elephant. I was all for it, until one of my friends reminded me that we were running late for a student reception that we signed up for. So, I settled for just getting “blessed”; even though I am a Christian, I wanted to participate and learn about something different. After paying one rupee, the elephant’s trunk was placed on my forehead. I walked away happy, amazed, and in daze… not caring that I had elephant spit on my face. I was unable to believe that I was actually in India! And not only was I in India, but I had just recieved a kiss from an elephant!

Well like I said, we were running late to a function, so it was time to catch a taxi back to the ship. However, before that, I saw a man beckoning me over to where he was selling some Indian clothes called salwar kameez. After he told me the price was sixty rupees (for the whole set – shirt, pants, and scarf), I thought he had misunderstood me. So I repeated that I wanted the whole 3-piece set: the salwar kameez, and dupatta. He looked confused and repeated the price. You see, 60 rupees was equivalent to about $1.37, and I just couldn’t believe that the whole outfit cost so little. After a few seconds, I realized that was act ually the price for the whole set, so I bought a few. I couldn’t believe the price, and was ready to buy more, but by this time, my friends were practically pulling me by the arm so we wouldn’t miss our bus to the reception. Sadly, I had to leave, but I told the man I would try to return again before I left.

My friends and I barely made it back to the ship to catch the bus to the student reception. The reception was a welcome for us, and it lasted a few hours. Upon arrival, we were presented with fresh, fragrant garlands of jasmine, and kumkum (a red powder mixed into a paste) were placed on the ladies’ foreheads. There were ladies applying the traditional Indian art of Mehendi on our hands, a spread of traditional South Indian food, a performance of Indian dancing, and the chance to mingle with some Indian students. Since I had arrived straight from my shopping at Pondy Bazaar, I still had some of the saris I had purchased. I asked one of the Indian ladies there to help me put it on, so that night I was looking and feeling more Indian. After a few hours, the reception ended, and the students returned to the ship. I thought I would fall asleep, since my first day was so exhausting, but I was way too excited. I was lying awake for a few hours just contemplating what had just happened. I felt like I had experience more in that one day in Madras, than in months back home in the U.S.

The second day, I visited the Arokiasamys, the Indian family who I had contacted the previous day. They run a charity called Share and Care which includes orphanages, day centers for the elderly, a rural health center, youth associations, etc. Though the Arokiasamys are Christian and follow a Christian ethic, there is no religious discrimination, and the girls are free to practice their own faith, without being forced to convert. I ate lunch with the family (which was delicious; Indian food is one of my favorites), and afterwards, I was taken for a visit to the orphanage for disabled girls. Many of the girls couldn’t walk due to debilitating diseases. These were girls who had lost both or one parent, and couldn’t be supported, or maybe they were abandoned be cause they couldn’t help contribute to the family (because of their disability). It was an amazing experience. Though the girls didn’t speak English, they sang for me, danced (mostly with arm, neck, and eye movements), and played with me. I also visited the craft center, which is an important source of income for the organization. By making beautiful cards, wall hangings, etc., these young women feel a sense of pride, purpose, and resourcefulness. This experience was by far one of the most magical, and humbling.

On my third day, in India, I participated in a College Visit with homestay. I visited a local college, and got the opportunity to interact with other students and compare our respective countries, our day to day lives, religion, the caste system, arranged marriages, similarities, differences, etc. Many aspects of Indian culture are fascinating, if only because they are so different from the West. After the visit at the college, we (the other participating students and I) were taken to a local Indian restaurant to experience traditional South Indian food. We were accompanied by local students who explained the menu selections and helped us learn about the cuisine and dining customs of South India. Again, it was delicious, but like anywhere, it does not compare to home cooking (which I had just experienced the previous day). After the lunch, we were picked up from the restaurant by our host families and were taken to their homes. This experience was great because we got a taste of the life of a typical middle class Indian family (though one can be sure that the lower economic classes live a very different life). A few of my friends and I chose to be housed together, and we were pampered. We were stuffed with food until we couldn’t eat any more (no complaints from me)! Some of the neighbors came to visit us, and we talked and shared experiences, cultures, and again, the differences a nd similarities about our countries. We asked them questions about Indian practices such as arranged marriages, dowry, the caste system, Bollywood, etc. They asked us about American stereotypes (how true are they), the educational system, college life, our families, etc. The next day, we woke up to a traditional India breakfast which included idli a type of cooked rice cake), tea, etc. We were then taken back to the ship, but not before we exchanged contact information with our new family.

My fourth day in Madras, I decided to just explore the city. That afternoon, I decided to go into a sari shop and buy some tailor-made clothes. I got measured and fitted, and was told that my 3 outfits (two saris and one salwar kameez) would be stitched and ready in about 1.5 hours. They were silk, and altogether cost under $20! I replied that I would come back then, but the owner insisted that I stay, talk with him and have tea. So, I did, and for the next hour or so, we talked. When I was leaving, he told me that I was a very nice person, and he liked talking, and next time that I was in Madras, he would like me to come visit his family. He wanted me to eat with them, and meet his children and his wives! At this point, I asked how many wives he currently had, and he replied that he had two, but would like another one! As a Muslim, he was allowed more than one wife, and he wanted as many as he could afford. The rest of that day, I just continued walking around shopping, and sight seeing, and trying (unsuccessfully, of course) to blend in.

One of the hardest things to handle in India is the poverty. I saw beggars everywhere, from older people to toddler children. Some were missing limbs, and I had heard stories about how sometimes parents purposely mutilate their children, so as to invoke more sympathy. One has a dilemma, because if you don’t give, you feel guilty and feel like you are being stingy. Even if you just gave 100 rupees (about $2.00), it is nothing to an American, but can buy so much in India. However, if you do give, you can expect a swarm, because after you give to one child, 10 more will probably encircle you and beg. So, one has to be discreet if deciding to give to a beggar.

My fifth day in Madras was the saddest, because I was not ready to leave. I spent most of the day with the Arokiasamys, eating lunch with them, talking, and later on, sadly, saying goodbye. With the few hours I had left, I decided to do some last minute shopping for my family. While walking around, an Indian man visiting from Bombay approached me and asked if I was from there (though I thought it was obvious that I’m not Indian)! I decided to play along and answered that I was visiting from the states. He offered to take me out to get something to eat, so we went to a small restauran t and talked for a while. I never did get a chance to do last minute shopping, but at least I made a new friend. While he was walking me back to the ship, we drew some attention, maybe because people thought we were a couple.

Those five days that I spent in India were intense, humbling, and mind-blowing. One of the reasons that I love India so much is that it is so different from the U.S. Actually, it is the most different country that I have visited. Several factors have it ranked in the top three for my favorite countries: the warm people… the delicious food… the rich, diverse culture… the fascinating (sometimes disturbing), traditions that sometimes I don’t understand, and the natural beauty of the land. The great exchange rate doesn’t hurt eit her. The most expensive part of India is just getting there. After that, food, lodging, etc. is inexpensive. Sometime within the next few years, I plan to return to Madras. I would like to volunteer at the Share and Care organization for a few months, perhaps as a teacher. I know that doing so would expand my horizons so much, and teach me more than I could ever them.


A Taste Of Tanzania
By Nanga'ah Ndumu

The adventure continues! From March 2nd to March 6th, I was in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania. Tanzania is a developing East African nation. Although Dodoma has been appointed the new capital of Tanzania, "Dar" (as it is called by aficionados of the city) is still considered to be the real capital by many. The two official languages are English and Swahili, and the population of 37.2 million is split almost equally between Christians, Muslims, and those who have indigenous beliefs.

We arrived on a Sunday, so there was not as much do as if it were a weekday. However, my friends and I found a few places to explore. The first was called Slipway. It was a combination straw market, restaurant, hang out spot, etc. It was nice, but a bit too touristy for my taste. I didn't buy anything, so the next stop was another straw market called Mwenge. I bought some African-print fabric to use as skirts, and a chess set carved from wood.

Afterwards, my friends and I went to the Nyerere Cultural Center, which not only was a store, but it was also educational, providing information about Dar Es Salaam, and Tanzania in general. There I took some pamphlets, and bought some cards made from banana leaves. The last stop for the day was an Italian restaurant, because exploring can be tiring. Perhaps this should not have been the first meal I ate in Tanzania, because I remember thinking that they might do better to stick with Tanzanian food. As I would find out in the following days, Tanzanian food is delicious.

The local cuisine consists primarily of poultry, corn, beef, fish, eggs, lamb, tropical fruit, and vegetables. Two local favorite dishes are Mishikaki (almost sounds Japanese, doesn't it?!), which is a charcoal-broiled meat dish, and Wali na Nyama, a curried beef. However the most popular food in Tanzania is Ugali, which is made by boiling corn meal until it forms a dough-like substance. Goat is also popular among Tanzanians, and may be the only meat available in rural areas.

The next few days in Dar, I simply walked around and took in the sites. I walked downtown for hours upon hours on end, stopping only for a bite to eat, then continuing on my adventure. I shopped, ate, mailed postcards, talked to locals, made friends, and learned. I ate at an Indian restaurant, which was so great that I had to compliment the chef personally. I bought a Tanzanian cookbook, with the intention of trying out some of the recipes one day.

The indisputable highlight of my trip to Tanzania was when I got out of the city and went into the countryside for the last few days. I had heard about this homestay opportunity from several other students, and jumped at the chance to participate. It is a community organization to foster understanding and learning between the locals and visitors. For a fee of about $10.00, the guests are provided with food, accommodation, and best of all, learning.

The name of the place was called Akida's Garden, and it was run by Akida and some other members of his family. Me and two of my friends, Ko and Ryan took a 30 minute ferry ride, then had to take a taxi to get there, arriving in the late afternoon. It is in a village, so there were no phones, and no way to announce that we were coming; we just showed up. When we saw the sign for Akida's Garden, we just approached the gate, and someone was already coming towards us. Akida's brother greeted us very warmly (almost like he had been expecting us), and welcomed us into his home. After all the introductions, and settling in, we were taken for a tour of the village. It was beautiful, and all the people lived in harmony with nature. The fruits and vegetables were grown in an orchard, seaweed from the beach was harvested and sold. There was lush vegetation (and therefore shade from the heat) everywhere, and it felt like a retreat. There was no running water or electricity, and I loved it. A part of me felt like I was getting back to nature.

After a tour of the village and meeting some of the residents, we returned back to Akida's compound. Some of the older residents only spoke English, so Akida's brother had to act as a translator. Upon arriving back at the compound, more interaction continued. The wife was just starting to cook dinner, and I wanted to learn, so I asked if I could help her. In the tiny kitchen, I chopped vegetables while she set the water to boil and prepared the meat. We spoke a little, but her English was not quite as good as her husband's. She was young, about 20, with an infant daughter. It took us a little over an hour to prepare a simple, delicious meal of rice, with chicken cooked in some vegetables. I'm not sure of what it was called, but it was good.

While the wife and I were cooking, the men were outside, sitting around the fire and talking. I joined them after the food was prepared, and sat around and talked with them for a little while. We discussed life in our respective countries, education, the government/politics, race in America, the difference between how we live, etc. It was an open exchange, and an opportunity to learn, ask questions, and satisfy curiosities.

By this time, the table had been set, and it was time to eat dinner. My friends and I ate together, and the rest of the family ate at a different place. We were told beforehand, that they eat segregated, maybe because they are Muslim (most of the people in the village are); However, my two friends and I were not asked to separate, probably just to make us feel comfortable. After eating, we were given kerosene lanterns, shown the outside latrine, and shown to our rooms for bed. The one I slept in was a cabin, with a few windows with decorated bars on them. There were two beds inside, with mosquito nets over them for protection. After settling in to bed, and securing the mosquito net, I let the crickets lull me to a peaceful sleep.

In the morning, my friends and I went to the beach, which was only a ten minute walk from the house. It was beautiful but most importantly, secluded. There was only one other person there; a woman collecting seaweed to sell. So, since we had free reign of the place, we just played and ran through the water. Again, since it was a predominantly Muslim community, any bathing suit had to be covered up with other clothes. After the beach, we returned to the house, and washed up, with water that had been drawn from a local well. Afterwards, a delicious breakfast was waiting for us. Again, I don't know what it is called, but it consisted of rice and eggs cooked with some vegetables, and tea. After breakfast, it was time to gather our things, say goodbye, and catch the ferry back into the city.

By this time, it was early afternoon, and I just spent my last hours in Dar by walking around downtown, buying some last minute gifts, and mailing postcards. I bought a Swahili dictionary from an older gentleman who was very nice, and we exchanged addresses. We have so far been communicating through postcards and letters. Again, out of everything I did and saw, my experience at Akida's Garden was the highlight of my stay in Dar. It was a chance to get back to nature, relax, and most importantly, learn. Those few moments sitting around the fireplace exchanging thoughts and listening were invaluable. Also invaluable was walking around the village and learning about the lifestyle of the people. My experience in Dar was actually great. I didn't have any expectations, because even when I tried to think about what Tanzania, East Africa would be like, I couldn't. But, if I did have expectations, I think my actual experience would have far exceeded them.

Her Adventure Continues to. Cape Town, South Africa!
 By Nanga'ah Ndumu

In the last column, you were introduced to my adventures in Bahia, Brasil, and now you will accompany me to Cape Town, South Africa. Cape Town is considered one of the most beautiful cities in the world and it has a lively, cosmopolitan atmosphere. It is surrounded by vineyards, beaches, and mountains, with Table Mountain being the most famous natural landmark. When Table Mountain is blanketed in clouds, the cloud cover is referred to as a table cloth.

The history of South Africa is both complex and disturbing. With the acknowledgement that I am in no way qualified to try to introduce a brief introduction of the history, at the bottom of this article are a few links that I have found to be excellent sources of information. South Africa is also known as R.S.A. (the Republic of South Africa) and it is divided in nine regions, with three capitals: Pretoria (administrative); Bloemfontein (judicial) and Cape Town (legislative). It is a diverse country with the population being distributed thus: 75.2% Black, 13.6% white, 8.6% Colored (mixed race), and 2.6% Indian. Although there are 11 official languages, English is among one of the most widely spoken, along with Zulu, Xhosa, and Afrikaans (which is very similar to Dutch). Thankfully, I never ran into any language problems while in Cape Town, and I had no knowledge of the 10 other official languages.

Even though apartheid (apartness) is legally not practiced anymore, it is still evident in the culture. With so much of South Africa's recent history based on this segregation, I suppose it is to be expected. There is still a lot of racism, stereotypes, discrimination (especially with education and career), and prejudices. And of course, in many ways, people still stay with their own kind. But, it is not uncommon to have friends of different races, and even interracial dating and marriage are becoming more common. I saw quite a few more interracial couples than I imagined I would.

My first day in Cape Town, I mostly just spent the morning walking around the city by myself. The ship had docked at a pier at the V&A (Virginia and Alfred) Waterfront. It is surrounded by a huge shopping mall with about 300 restaurants, music venues, clothes shops, etc. I walked through the mall for a brief period, but it didn't really interest me because it was so touristy. Also, it was too similar to the shopping malls here in the states, regarding the types of items they sold and the prices. I felt that if I wanted to buy something, I wanted it to be unique, something not easily found in the states. The waterfront was not the place for that. True, there were some items (i.e. decorated ostrich eggs, cricket shirts) that I don't see here too often, but in general, it was too much of the same. But, the biggest problem that I had with the waterfront shops was that it was not at all representative of so many South Africans reality. To know how many South Africans were too poor to afford to buy anything in those stores left me feeling disgusted. It may seem like a harsh word, but it is the most apt.

So, in reference to the V&A waterfront with its hundreds of stores, tourist appeal, tourist prices, etc., the juxtaposition of those two extremes (the mall and the townships) in my mind were a bit too much to take all at once. Even after I let it marinate for a while, it was still too much. My experience in South Africa was very emotional, and a bit draining, spiritually and mentally.

Later on that afternoon, I visited a squatter settlement (better known as a township), and visited the District Six Museum. To one who has never been to a township, the closest comparison that I can think of is what we in the U.S. call the ghetto or the projects. However, the ghettos in Chicago, New York, California, and elsewhere here in the states have nothing on the South African townships. In comparison, one could say that the ghettos here in the U.S. are nice, almost dare I say? plush. Some of my classmates live in what many would consider a ghetto, or the projects. But they have running water, electricity (though maybe infrequent), separate rooms and bedrooms, etc. The squatter settlements I saw often were one-room shacks with dirt floors that housed a family of 3 to 8 or more people with none of the amenities mentioned above. And the crime and violence that exists in the townships seem to be equal to or more than that found in U.S. ghettos, in terms of frequency, severity, etc. Those who live in the projects here in the states would come away with a new perspective and perhaps also a new definition of the word if they were to visit the townships that I saw in Cape Town. I certainly did.

The District Six Museum, established in December 1994, is committed to the memory of the experiences and with the history of forced removals. District six was so named in 1867 and was originally established as a mixed community of freed slaves, merchants, laborers, artisans, and immigrants, a vibrant center with strong ties to both the port and the city. However, by the beginning of the twentieth century, marginalization had begun. Black South Africans were the first to be resettled, forcibly displaced in 1901. In 1966, it was declared a white area, and by 1982, the life of the community was over. Sixty thousand people were forced to move to barren outlying areas aptly known as the Cape Flats, and bulldozers flattened their houses in District Six.

During my second day, I visited Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, one of the most beautiful gardens in South Africa, and also ranked in the top ten of the most beautiful gardens in the world. Founded in 1913, it is situated on the eastern slope of Table Mountain. It consists of landscaped gardens of indigenous plants and trees, watered by the Liesbeek River, as well as natural forest that extends up the lower slopes. Among the most interesting sections are the Cycad Amphitheatre, which hosts most species of living fossils found in southern Africa and the famed Protea Garden on the higher slopes, with its profuse growth of silver trees. I also loved the section which featured the medicinal plants, which had specimens said to treat everything from a sore throat to upset stomachs, to arthritis. I guess it was natural that I also liked the section featuring edible plants since I love flowers, and I love to eat!

My third day in Cape Town, I decided that could not depart from the country without first seeing Robben Island. This was where, for nearly 400 years, it served as a place of banishment, exile, isolation and imprisonment. This was where those who were considered political troublemakers, social outcasts (i.e. lepers) and just generally unwanted were sent. During the apartheid years, Robben Island gained an international reputation for the institutional brutality. Some of the prisoners spent more than a century in prison because of their beliefs, though they had not committed a violent crime. Nelson Mandela, former President, spent almost 18 years in Robben Island (though he was a political prisoner for longer than that, staying in other locations).r

One adult ticket to Robben Island is 150.00 Rand, which equals ~$24.00 USD, However, to make this more affordable to all South Africans, there are annual winter promotions which lower the price to 60.00 Rand (~$10.00). Now, this isn't too much to a visitor who wants to learn about the history, but for many, many, South Africans, 60.00 Rand is still a lot of money. So, many miss out on this wonderful opportunity to learn. Since Robben Island is actually an island, one has to take a ferry to get there. After arriving on the island, I was on a bus with others (mostly foreigners), and we were getting a driving tour throughout the island, seeing the lime quarry, etc. The lime quarries were where prisoners did the backbreaking work of cracking the white rocks, often with the results of getting blinded in the process.

The most enlightening part of the visit to Robben Island, of my whole day, indeed of my whole visit to South Africa was when I, along with the other people on tour, spent about 45 minutes with our tour guide. The great thing is, all the tour guides are former prisoners, so they give a personal account of things that actually happened to them. The name of my tour guide was Thulani Mabaso. He talked about why he was imprisoned (political reasons), a usual day in the prison, how he was treated, the different methods of torture that was used on him, how the food was distributed according to what race the prisoners were (whites got the most food, blacks received the least, Indians and coloreds received somewhere in the middle), and how he was released. After he was released, he needed (and still to this day needs), therapy. When he was first approached about being a tour guide, he refused. The memories were too painful. It took him eight years to be able to set foot back in the prison. This was the first time I really cried on the voyage. Many of the other visitors were also crying. At once, the visit to Robben Island showed the depths of human cruelty, and the strength of the human spirit. Those few hours I spent there continue to be one of my most profound experiences in Cape Town, and also on the whole voyage.

Later on that night, I went to a club with some people that I met at the waterfront. It was my introductory course to South African Kwaito music. The club was divided into two different rooms, with one side playing popular American music (hip-hop, R&B, etc.) and the other side playing Kwaito. I didn't really know how to dance to it, so I did a lot of watching, hoping to catch on to what the others were doing.

My last day in Cape Town, I didn't wake up until around noon (since I didn't get in from the club until about 5 am). After I woke up, I met up with one of the people I had gone dancing with, and spent the whole day visiting his friends and family. When it was time to get on the ship and leave, I had mixed feelings. I wasn't ready to go, but then at the same time, I was ready. South Africa had put me completely out of my comfort zone. The experience left me feeling, at different times, elated (at the strength and spirit of the people), indignant (at the conditions in which my people lived), and also feeling helpless, wondering exactly what, if anything I could do to make a difference. When trying to describe what I experienced and felt while I was in Cape Town is one of the few times that the English language seems woefully inadequate. Of all the prior ports that I had visited, Cape Town was thus far the hardest for me emotionally. Especially when learning about South Africa's troubled history, and seeing the ways in which some of those same problems are manifested today.

In a few weeks (January 1, 2004), I will be back in Cape Town to visit. I feel the same trepidation. Excitement, yes. But also, a bit of anxiety, and nervousness, because, as I mentioned before, I know that I will be put out of my comfort zone. But I am so looking forward to it, because South Africa changed me. After being there, I know that I cannot be apathetic, cannot look the other way, cannot ever be satisfied by being stagnant. I feel as if I have to take some sort of action. Whether in South Africa or in another country, I have to take some action. And I know that I have to do it, because I'm not going to feel whole any other way.

P.S. Just as while I was in Bahia, Brasil, I made friends with a security guard, I also met another security guard friend while I was in Cape Town. After seeing this pattern, some of my friends started questioning why I always seem to meet and befriend security guards. I think the answer is because those are simply the people I would meet the most while in port. The guards are there to protect the students and everyone else on the ship, and I would see them every time I got on and off the ship. I guess it seemed natural after a while to strike up a conversation with them. Plus, I started talking to them anyway if I needed help like directions or recommendations on places to go, etc. Just a quick explanation in case you too started wondering about this pattern of security guards!

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Brasil tem meu coração (Brasil has my heart)
By Nanga'ah Ndumu

Last month, I wrote about my adventures in Habana, Cuba. This month, my writing will take you to Salvador da Bahia, Brasil (Salvador is the city, and Bahia is the state). Brasil is the country with the second most people of African descent, second only to Nigeria. Bahia is regarded as Brazil's most historic state, and has retained strong links with the African heritage of many of the people. The population is 80% black (well, black from an American perspective, because in Brasil, the concept of race is totally different). From 1549 to 1763, Salvador da Bahia, was also once the capital of colonial Brasil, and was the center of the sugar industry. Portuguese is the official language, and the brasilian people are a beautiful mix of African, indigenous American, and European (mostly Portuguese, but also Spanish, Italian, German, etc.). There are also several million Brasilians who are of Japanese descent (the largest outside of Japan). As you can see, this country is truly a melting pot.

One advantage that I had was that, as far as looks, I blended in with the local population. People often mistook me for a Baiana, and I think that was because of my attitude also. For safety, as well as other reasons (i.e. to get an authentic feel of the place), I never wanted to stand out as a tourist, so I dressed and acted as if I was a native (when in Rome). I didn't have obvious or expensive clothes, jewelry, cameras, etc. And even the few times that I was lost, I never stood out on the street looking confused; I walked like I knew exactly where I was going (then I would walk into a reputable-looking business and ask for help). Sometimes people would come up to me speaking Portuguese; however, my cover was blown when they saw my blank look, and heard me desperately struggling with Portuguese. I had only mastered a few essential phrases, like how to communicate that I don't speak much Portuguese, I'm sorry/lost/hungry/thirsty, please, thank you, how much does it cost, etc.

I was staying in the historic Pelourinho area, and my first day in Bahia, I mostly just walked around and did some sightseeing. Pelourinho has been undergoing major restoration work since 1993, which continues today and the result is that it has been transformed into a tourists delight, packed with restaurants, bars, art galleries and boutiques. Although this may have caused it to lose some of its character in the process, the area is now much safer and tourist police are posted on just about every other corner. One interesting feature of the Pelourinho area is Lacerda Elevator, a vertical elevator that transports people to the lower part of the city. While walking around the city, I sampled the delicious regional cuisine (i.e. vatapa WHAT IS THIS), checked out the night life (i.e. Aeroclube) and made great friends in some unlikely places.

Some of the places I saw were Mercado Modelo (a huge market of vendors geared towards tourists), many museums and beautiful churches, like Igreja São Francisco. Defying the teachings and vows of poverty of its namesake, this baroque church is crammed with displays of wealth and splendor. Gold leaf is used like wallpaper and there is an 80-kg silver chandelier and imported azulejos (Portuguese ceramic tiles). Forced to build their masters' church and yet prohibited from practicing their own religion (Candomblé terreiros were hidden and kept far from town), the African slave artisans responded through their work: the faces of the cherubs are distorted, some angels are endowed with huge sex organs, some appear pregnant. Most of these creative acts were chastely covered by 20th-century sacristans. Traditionally blacks were seated in far corners of the church without a view of the altar.

While walking around, I saw the Afro-Brasilian martial art capoeira being practiced. Capoeira can be described as a mixture of fight, dance, and gymnastics, rolled into fluid, graceful and athletic movements. Music is also used in the form of the berimbau, a stringed musical instrument that resembles a fishing rod. It was developed as a way for a slave to fight their masters. Another interesting cultural practice is Candomblé, an Afro-Brasilian religion that was brought over by the African slaves. It combines African traditions of music, dance and language into a system of worship and enjoyment of life in peace and harmony. Much about the religion is secret, but the public ceremony takes place in the original Yoruba language.

My last few days in Bahia, some friends and I took a ferry to Itaparica, a nearby island. The weather was beautiful and hot (though cooler in the evenings), so we went to the beach, and it was so relaxing. The sky was clear, and the water was far more blue than any that I'd seen at the beaches in Delaware. People there are so free, so I saw people of all sizes, shapes, colors and ages in the least amount of clothes possible. Besides just working on their tan, people were swimming, playing volleyball, strolling, etc. In general, Bahia is very laid back, from the mentality, to the dress. After a few hours of lounging on the beach, sipping juice, talking to locals, and listening to the great music, we took the ferry back to Pelourinho.

However, one cannot write about Brasil, especially Bahia, without mentioning the music. Some of the most popular genres are samba, bossa nova, tropicalia, and axé. Bahia's lively axé music mixes samba, reggae, afoxé, frevo, pop, Caribbean styles and other ingredients. Bahia has produced many of Brazil's great musicians, including João Gilberto, Dorival Caymmi, Gilberto Gil, Novos Baianos, Gal Costa, Caetano Veloso, and Maria Bethania. And of course, Brasil didn't escape Americas far reaching musical influence, so I also heard some popular American songs there. The rhythms in the music are just as infectious as the salsa I heard in Habana, and I danced just as much.

As in most of the countries that I have visited, my fondest memories are of the people that I met. My first day in Bahia, I met a taxi driver who took such good care of me. He was teaching himself English (which was better than my Portuguese at the time), so we communicated pretty well most of the time. He had a daughter a few years older than I, and said I reminded him of her, so he acted somewhat paternal towards me. Luiz gave me his card and told me to call him whenever I needed him, and he would come and get me. He took me around on his day off to see the sites (not just the touristy sites, but things that vistors don't often get a chance to see, like the ghettos, which are called favelas) and didn't even charge me.

Otherwise, he would always charge me less than what the meter said, and later on, when I met a nice Brasilian guy, we all went out for ice cream. My last day in Bahia, he even made me a copy of a cd by Elis Regina, a popular Brasilian singer. We still keep in touch through emails and phone calls, and the next time that I am in Bahia, I am invited to stay with him and his family.

Another person I remember well is a security guard named Santos. He also had a daughter, and she was about my age. I passed him frequently every day, but we didn't say much other than just to greet each other. However once, as I was heading in for the night, we started talking and just didn't stop until actually seven hours later. Yes, that's rights seven hours. I saw him at midnight, but didn't actually leave his station until seven a.m. The time just passed! He offered me some of his coffee (and I don't even like coffee, but I like Brasilian coffee!) and we just talked. We talked about politics (Brasilian and American), the war, religion (we are both Christians), our families, the difference between Brasilians and Americans, race and racism (in both our countries), stereotypes and mentalities that Brasilians have about Americans, etc.

Of course we also taught each other our respective languages. Towards the end of our conversation, I was even acting as an interpreter for the other American students who wanted to talk to him! He was teaching himself English (he had an English/Portuguese dictionary) and would ask me words, or how to explain an American expression he had heard. I did the same with him, but would often pepper the conversation with Spanish words if I didn't know how to say it in Portuguese. Since the languages are similar in many respects, I would just hope he could figure out what I meant. Most of the time, he did, and so did the rest of the Baianos. My knowledge of Spanish helped more than I imagined it would.

I learned so many interesting things about Brazilian culture, and got an opportunity to discuss them in depth. For example, as I mentioned earlier, the way Brasilians view race is very different from how Americans view race. In Brasil, there are several main categories: branca (white), mestizo (Native American or N.A. mix), mulatto (mixed black and white), morena (brown/mixed), negro (black). Beyond these are many unofficial classifications as well. America goes mostly by blood and also by appearance, while Brasil goes mostly by appearance. I have always been regarded as Black in the states, but when I went to Brasil, I heard words such as morena used to describe me. When I pointed to my skin to say Nao, sou negra (No, I'm black), Brasilians would answer back Nao, é morena (No, you are morena), morena meaning tan, brown, and having implications of mixed race.

Well, this was news to me! In the states, no one has ever thought I was mixed with anything except black and black. In the U.S., if both parents are black, and the child happens to have light skin, he is not considered any less black; someone might use the term light-skinned to describe his physical appearance, but he is still considered black. In the states, even if a child is part black and part white, he is still, for the most part, considered black. So, as long as one parent is black, so are the children. Not so in Brasil. It is perfectly possible for a black mother and white father to have three children and they are three different races. Lets say the first is a son who is light like the father; he is branco or maybe branquinho (whitish). If the second is a daughter who is dark like the mother, she is negra. If the third is another son who is an equal blend of both parents, he is mulatto (or if he is a little darker, but not quite black, he can also be moreno. So, in Brasil, a person's race is based on the actual color of the skin. This was all very confusing to me until I looked at it from a deeper context. In Brasil, there seems to be little benefit to being regarded as black. Whiteness is associated with status, both social and economic. So, since there is the option of not being black, but instead being something in between white and black, some people who are otherwise black take that option. Though Brasil would like to take the stance of being a Racial Democracy, this is not entirely true. Lighter skinned Brasilians definitely have an advantage.,

My stay in Brasil was enlightening, fun, and relaxing all at the same time, and I loved every minute of it. One of the best ways to really experience a country is to just talk to the people. The museums, beaches, churches, etc., that I saw were great, and it was nice to learn about the history. But the best memories that I have are just hanging with the new friends that I made while I was there, with me struggling to speak their language, and them struggling to speak mine.

Viva la Revolucion!
By Nanga'ah Ndumu

Last month, you were introduced to Nassau, Bahamas, the first port during my voyage on the S.S. Universe Explorer. This month, the adventure continues to Habana, Cuba. Upon arriving, the student group that I had traveled with were greeted with a band that was playing traditional Cuban music (son, guaguanco, rumba, etc.). It was amazing. Talk about a warm welcome! The nickname for Cubans is sabroso which means tasty. They earned this nickname (they are known as sabrosos in Puerto Rico for example) because they are so friendly. I found that Cubanos lived up to and exceeded their reputation. Also, there were students that I met from la Universidad de la Habana who were available to answer questions, give us tours of the city, and generally just be our guides. One of the highlights of visiting the Universidad de la Habana, was attending a conference about US-Cuba relations, which was very interesting. Afterwards, there was a small reception for the students with live music and food.

During my first night in Habana (or as Americans say it, Havana), I decided to attend a baseball game. Since baseball is one of Cubas national past times, there was no way that I could pass up the opportunity. The stadium was about half full, and the other students and I were rooting for the local team to win (the opposing team had arrived from a different city). I think we students were just happy to be in Cuba, because we were cheering the loudest, even though our team was losing.

After the ninth inning, a few of my friends and I decided to go to a salsa club with some Cuban students that we had met. When we first arrived at the club, it hadnt opened yet, so we just ate at a nearby restaurant while we waited. The music was simply infectious, and it included some salsa, rumba, and son. The dj also played popular American hip-hop and R&B, which seemed just as popular with the local crowd as Cuban music. The Cubanos were impressed with my dancing and kept asking me where I learned to dance like that. I simply told them "Soy africana" (I'm African). Then they looked at each other, nodded their heads, and said "Ooohhhh!", like that just explained everything. This concluded my first night in Habana.

During the second day, I mostly just walked around with my friends from la Universidad and toured the city, passing the beautiful beach and the historical buildings. I visited the Plaza de la Catedral, Iglesia of San Francisco at Amargura, Casa de San Ignacio, and many other beautiful historical sites. My favorite part of the city was Habana Vieja (Old Havana). So many of the buildings and residences were dilapidated and in need of repair, and yet for some strange reason, I could only see beauty in the ruin.

I say this at the risk of romanticizing Habana, which I dont intend to do. I know that life is hard for many of the people in Habana, but I can only write what I feel. Even in the midst of the dilapidation I saw beauty in the buildings; maybe because they made the city seem quaint and even more historical. I saw beauty in the people: their accents, the way they were helpful and excited just to talk to a visitor to their beautiful country. I loved how in some parts of the city the streets were cobbled, which gave the city an ancient feel, and reminded me of the pictures I'd seen of side streets in small European towns. The European influence was especially evident in the architecture, while the African influence was very much evident in the music. Both were evident in the food, and the physical features of the Cubanos.

The second day I was in Cuba, the students were at a conference with Cuba's President Fidel Castro. He was speaking for over FOUR HOURS and showed no signs of slowing down. After his lecture, he opened the floor for questions, and we didnt even get past question one. He spent about a good 2 hours answering the first question (which asked his opinion regarding the current situation in Venezuela), and there wasnt time for any more questions. President Castro is very charming and he is a charismatic speaker. At 76 years old, el Presidente seems to be in good health. He stood up during the whole speech (with no interruptions!), and would have liked to keep talking if it had not been time to go (he held a reception for us afterwards). The reception place was amazing! It was a very big hall, with elegant columns in the front of the house, and a swimming pool in the backyard. There was a live band, and the food was great- Cuban sandwiches, tostones, arroz con frijoles y pollo, etc. President Castro really went all out for his visitors. The conference with el Presidente was another highlight of my visit.

Well, sadly, I only spent three days on the beautiful island, and on the third day, I spent more time with the University students I had met. We walked around the city some more, I took a horse and carriage ride with my friend Yana, who I'd grown particularly close to and fond of. Again, riding on a horse drawn carriage through small cobbled side streets reminded me of something I'd seen in descriptions of small European towns. Despite what some of my friends thought, the most valuable thing I brought back with me was not the box of Cuban cigars that I bought. The most valuable thing was an appreciation for a beautiful country with even more beautiful people and a rich culture. Cubanos are truly the country's national treasure.


A Voyage of a Lifetime, Part I
By Nanga'ah Ndumu

My name is Nanga'ah Ndumu and I am a senior biology student at Delaware State University. In the semester of Spring 2002, I decided that I wanted to incorporate studying abroad into my college experience. One day my mother brought home a brochure that one of her friends (a professor at my university) had given her. It was for a program called Semester at Sea, which is sponsored by the University of Pittsburgh. I couldn't decide on one specific country to travel to, so this program sounded perfect since it is a multi-country travel program.

Well, I applied, got accepted, and (surprisingly) even scrounged up enough money to actually participate. So, from January 21, 2003, to May 6, 2003, I sailed throughout North America, the Caribbean, South America, Africa, and Asia (both the Indian subcontinent and the Orient). The S.S. Universe Explorer was my home for 3 1/2 months, and was equipped like a regular land university, with cabins, classrooms, a computer lab, library, theater, cafeterias, etc. The first port was Nassau, Bahamas. I arrived in Nassau in the afternoon, and only stayed for two days, a decision I regretted as soon as I arrived on the island. You see, Nassau was the point of embarkation, so it was up to the participants how early they wanted to arrive. Some came to Nassau a week before the trip began, while others didn't arrive until the day of the trip. Well, like I said, I immediately regretted the decision to come only two days ahead of time, as I could see that it wouldn't be enough time to truly soak up the culture and island experience.

Granted, a week wouldn't do it either, but it would have been better. After settling into my hotel, I decided to go out to dinner, and ended up hanging out all night with a few Finnish people who were also visiting the island. We went to dinner, three or four different clubs (the Zoo, etc.) and a very popular hotel/casino called Atlantis. At the restaurant, the food and service was great, and the place catered to both locals and tourists. I appreciated this because so many restaurants attract only one or the other, so when there is a mix, it is a nice change. The clubs got packed later that night, and I danced so much that parts of me that I didn't even know I had were hurting. The music was such that when you listened to it, you couldn't help but dance. With those beats, I couldn't have been a wallflower if Id wanted to. I actually didn't get a chance to walk around and see the sights until the next day.

The following day, I somehow figured out what bus to take, and decided to go window shopping at the nearby mall. It was similar to the malls in the states regarding appearance, the type of things they sold, and prices (though sometimes it was actually more expensive). It was more tourist, though, and I could tell that it wasn't where the majority of the natives shopped on a regular basis. The downtown area was beautiful and historic. The beach was beautiful, but it was a bit cool so I didn't really get in the water, just splashed my feet around. Since the weather was cool, the beach was not that crowded, but the people who were there (mostly tourists) took advantage of the beautiful day. It wasn't hot enough to work on a tan, but people were strolling, running, building sand castles with their children, etc. The sand was a tan-beige color, and both the water and sky were a beautiful mixture of turquoise, teal, and light blue. I felt so peaceful and relaxed that even when some sharp edges of seashell scraped my foot, I didn't care. I just ran my fingers and toes through the sand and for a while forgot any worries I might have had.

Bahamians have one of the most beautiful accents that I have ever heard, and I found myself engaging people in conversation not just to learn about them and their culture, but also just to hear them speak! I often was mistaken for a native (which of course I loved), until I spoke and they heard my accent. But even then, a few people said that I sounded like a Bahamian who had studied in the U.S. I guess I loved the accent so much that I subconsciously just picked it up a little. By just talking to people, I learned so much that as a casual observer I wouldn't pick up. I met amazing, friendly people who, even in the mist of poverty or hardships, manage to keep faith and dare to hope and dream.

The one thing that I didn't get a chance to do was get away from a lot of the tourist parts of the island. When traveling, I like to get away from the tourist spots and hang out in the same places where the everyday locals are. I feel that I can really get the true experience of the culture that way. Aside from that, my experience in the Bahamas was great, and I look forward to the day that I can visit again (and stay much longer!).

 
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