Greg At Sea: 2009

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

ARRIVAL TIME CHANGE

the ship will be alongside the pier at 0700!! NOT at 0800 as planned.

ARRIVAL TIME CHANGE

the ship will be alongside the pier at 0700!! NOT at 0800 as planned.

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Day 108. My Last post aboard the Explorer. But not my last post ever :-)

Hey there

The entire ship was outside this evening at 7:50 when the sun finally set. On the three outside decks in the aft part of the ship, most of the community was there, clapping, singing and crying their eyes out.

I can't even begin to digest what is going through my (and my friends') minds right now. This entire voyage, from Nassau, to Spain, Morocco, Namibia, South Africa (!!), Mauritius, India, Thailand, Vietnam, Hong Kong, China, Japan, Hawaii, Guatemala, Panama, The Ocean, The world. Nobody can believe we did it.

Convocation was this morning, and was full of great speeches and songs. It was extremely moving and sad, but so warm (just like our community). I was honored as a student leader and a 4.0 gpa-earner... which was pretty cool too.

I'm going to go enjoy my last night with my friends. Nobody is sleeping, everybody is just laying out on the deck, awaiting the first USA lights that come over the horizon in a few hours.

Stay tuned after the voyage ends and I'll post a bunch more post-voyage thoughs in the days to follow.

To you all. Thanks. You have taken a part in my Voyage, and I thank you for that. PLEASE contact me. Email me and let me know your connection to a program I now know and love.

Thanks as always. Talk to you from land, from US soil in a few hours!!!

-Greg Lessans

Additional Arrival Info

I will be on the top deck with

a) A Maryland Flag

and

b) a white sign with blue writing that says "HI MA!!"

Look for me.

Greg

ARRIVAL INFORMATION

(Information regarding arrival port and times)

THE MV EXPLORER will be ARRIVING at PORT EVERGLADES, Fort Lauderdale, Florida... TERMINAL 21.

We will be alongside the pier at 0800 tomorrow morning. We will probably be within view about an hour before that at 0700.

The ship will be cleared approx. 1030-11. It should take us a few hours from there to get off the ship.

Any questions, email me.

Greg

Day 107. I love this Ship; and a very public thank-you

I love this ship, and my community with all of my heart.

Tonight, me and 4 students were in charge of the final Logistical Pre-port on Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. The entire hour was dedicated to making fun of each of the faculty and staff: Luke "the voice" Jones, Les McCabe, Reg Garrett and Gary Dukes.

I played the part of Dean Reg, and his crazy cooky-ness that is infused in each of his lectures. I 'poked fun' at his long lecture slides, his silly inflection, his grading style and his overall demeanor.

It was such a hit. Everybody kept coming up to me afterwards telling me how spot-on my Reg impression was and how funny it was. It was incredibly flattering. I also have to thank Dean Reg for being such a good sport about the whole thing. He was laughing his butt of with everybody else and was a great sport about being made fun of in front of 700 people.

I am going to miss this so much. We are all so happy right now. Nobody wants to think about what's about to happen.

We spent the whole day in Re-Entry and reflection exercises talking about the multitude of things that can happen upon return to home. I'd like to think I got a better idea of what's ahead from people who have done it before. To my loved ones and friends: have patience with me. I promise to be as tactful as possible and to not clam up... but there's a lot I've experienced and a lot of things I need to sort out once I'm in familiar circumstances again. I know life has gone on in the past 108 days and that my experiences do not define the whole world's... but they'll still be fresh to me come Wednesday. I thank you in advance for your support and understanding as I express them to you.

----

Now, a very public thank-you:

Neither my mom nor my dad were born into insanely wealthy families. They were born into average american families with a culture, though, that their kids would be the most important to them. Let's level with eachother... I'm insanely lucky to have traversed this voyage. Lucky doesn't even scratch the surface. I'm so fortunate that words again fail me.

This voyage, as you can imagine, would not have ever been even a dream without the support of my parents. Monetary support, moral support, support to go explore, support to be different, support to throw caution to the wind and just 'go'... I got it all, and It led me to an incredible few months, and a connection to a program that will not end when I disembark in a day. It led to experiences that will define who I am, and moments that will change the way I think, act, and live. Had my parents not made the decision a long time ago to invest in their two children, I never would have had this opportunity. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

My parents know this. I make sure and tell them this all the time, but I feel as though they deserve to, at the very least, be recognized publicly.

Now. To the others. To every other parent out there who funded their kid. To every one of my relatives who supported me with anything from a dollar to a glimmer in their eye that said "I support this." To every friend who convinced me I wasn't crazy. To every advisor that sat across from me and told me that I HAD to do this... thank you. From the bottom of my heart: Thank you.

You have changed my life forever- and for that, I will never be able to thank you enough.

---

Tomorrow, Convocation. We will all be recognized for our completion of the voyage academically, and the graduating seniors will be able to walk across the stage symbolically. It is the official close of the voyage. Final speeches will be delivered, and the room will be full of tears of happiness and sadness. I am terrified. I remember the first evening when we got on the ship and Les said... "We're going around the world!"

We did it. We *went* around the world. Together.

You should hear from me at least one more time before we disembark on Wednesday morning.

Love from the Carribbean!

Greg

Monday, May 4, 2009

Day 106. Academics Done, Panama Canal, Ambasaddor's Ball

Well, the "semester" is oficially over.

Yesterday, at 1215, I took my last final (Evolution), and checked out academically for the school year. In other news, with the completion of that final, I am now a SENIOR in college. Weird.

I slept outside last night on deck 7 aft, and was awoken by the sun as we were crusing into the famed Panama Canal.

The experience of crossing the Panama Canal was really something to remember. Both the Pacific (where we started) and the Atlantic (where we ended) are lower than the lake in the middle of the isthmus. So, as we entered on the Pacific side, we were raised by 2 locks (the Miraflores and the Pedro Miguel Locks) about 50 feet up to meet the level of the lake. We then floated for hours to the final Gatun Locks where were dropped through a series of locks to meet the level of the Atlantic Ocean. The entire process took approximately 10 hours! It cost nearly $130,000 for us to cross. Not exactly chump change.

In true SAS tradition, we took part in the Ambassador's Ball tonight. It's the opportunity for us all to get completely dressed up in black-tie dresses and suits, and celebrate our voyage. We had two sittings of 5-course dinners followed by dessert and dancing all night. Dancing and singing with everybody in the union, which was rocking beneath us in the waves was a memorable time. I can't believe that the ball is behind us.

Tomorrow, we'll spend the day reflecting and talking about re-entry while packing. We have tomorrow and one more day before we arrive in Fort Lauderdale on Wednesday. The blog entries may not be as current, since I have lots to do before I depart the ship. Rest assured, though, I'll be composing a few different "voyage-ending" thoughts in the days following Disembarkation.

Talk to you tomorrow... and proud to be in our last body of water.

Greg.

Sunday, May 3, 2009

LATEBREAKING: Ship DisEmbarkation order announced

Friends

I had the privelage of actually drawing the names of the "seas" to determine the order of disembarkation from the ship on Wednesday of this coming week.

My sea, the Carribbean Sea, will be disembarking 7TH of all the seas. There are 9 total seas. I should be clearing the ship probably close to noonish.

I'll post the whole list later.

We're in the panama canal- check the webcam!

Greg

WATCH US IN THE PANAMA CANAL TODAY

Tomorrow we will be entering the PANAMA CANAL!

If you'd like, thanks to the magic of the world-wide-web, you can watch us at different times cross the canal!

*ALL TIMES ARE IN CENTRAL TIME. 10 AM Central is 11 AM Eastern*

1) 0910-1000 Transiting the Miraflores Locks. View us on regular webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Miraflores
or view us on the HIGH RESOLUTION webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=MirafloresHi
***FROM 0930-0935. I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***

2) 1300- The MICE (Mobile Interactive Computer Ensemble) will be performing a concert on the 7th deck forward (front of the ship). View LIVE streaming video at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=miraflores. Live streaming audo at http://std1.ladio.net:8000/micecast.m3u or on radio broadcast WTJU 91.1 FM, Virginia.

3) 1445- 1705 Transiting the Gatun Locks. View us on webcam at http://www.pancanal.com/eng/photo/camera-java.html?cam=Gatun
***FROM 1530-1535, I will be on the front of the ship with a giant Maryland State flag. If you see me, email me!***

*As a reminder, we are the (beautiful) Blue, White and Gold ship. We should be traversing Miraflores at 0910, traversing Pedro Miguel locks at 1050, and traversing Gatun locks at 1445.

If anything changes, I'll post to the blog.

Greg

WATCH US TRAVERSE THE PANAMA CANAL!

Saturday, May 2, 2009

WATCH US TRAVERSE THE PANAMA CANAL!

Re: Days 100-103. GUATEMALA

WOW! How many times have I said that on your journey. I do think that your hike in Guatemala is the icing on the cake - what an experience!!!

You'll never run out of adjectives ....... enjoy your last few days on board. Looking forward to seeing you next week.

Hugs xoxoxo MM

--------------------------------------

Elise Lessans

eliselessans@mac.com

eliselessans@comcast.net

On May 2, 2009, at 4:31 PM, Gregory Lessans at Semester at sea wrote:

GUATEMALA

        How does one express his self when their only way of doing so simply won't do?

        That's the question on everybody's mind after leaving the Central American country of Guatemala.

        This Voyage is one of perspectives. Each country is not looked at through a new sparkling lens, but from an old dusty one, ripe with impressions of 13 other ports-of-call. Such is the situation of the 800 of us who found ourselves in Guatemala on Tuesday morning. At 97 degrees West longitude, we have traveled nearly 345 degrees around the globe- a mere 15 degrees from where we began in Nassau January 19th.

        So, back to the original question: what does one do when they've used up all of their words? I've used the same adjectives, amazing, incredible, fantastic, beautiful, for so many things. From Table Mountain in South Africa to the Taj Mahal to my latest adventure in Guatemala, the experiences are so starkly different, so independently affective on myself as a person; and yet, I have to choose between a few overused adjectives.

        But we will try nonetheless.

In Guatemala, I climbed the Volcan Acatenango… The Acatenango Volcano. Acatenango stands at an imposing 13,044 feet above sea level. It is the third highest peak in Guatemala, and also the third highest volcano in all of Central America. It is an inactive volcano, and has been dormant for about 10,000 years. However, it stands right near two other volcanoes- Fuego directly next to it and Agua a few miles away. Fuego erupts mildly every 30 minutes or so, and Agua blows once every decade or so. Fuego's half-hour blast is enough to shake the ground and scare the crap out of ill-prepared tourists (see: me), but you really don't want to be around when Agua blows her top. She did so about 2 years ago and covered central Guatemala in smoke and ash for a few long weeks.

On our way to Acetanango, the tallest of the three volcanoes in the area, we stopped at an observation area by a gas station. While we were standing there and looking at the peak we were going to scale in the next 36 hours, Fuego erupted. I jumped back as she belched flames and black smoke and asked "esta normal??" (is this normal!?). Luis, our guide, told me it was. "Es nuestro volcan muy cerca de el eruption?" I asked (how close is our volcano to the one that's currently erupting). "Muy." He said with a smile: Very.

We stopped at a gas station to change into a new mode of transportation, Una Camioneta (a chicken bus). It is a old-school school bus that is tricked out in paint and lights and rims. They are common all over Guatemala, and this one, dubbed "Esmerelda" by the name on the windshield, was to take us to the beginning of our climb.

Within an hour or so driving, we had reached the bottom of the Volcano. At 6,900 feet, all we could see was up, and the summit was nowhere to be found in our gazes. What follows is a summary of our climb. With my backpack full of supplies, and my walking stick, I carried my green pocket-log that has been with me most of the voyage. What appears in quotations is exactly as I wrote it during the climb:

29 APRIL 1030: "Here on Volcano. Stacey's pen works" (I had borrowed a pen from my friend to write for the journey) "Just sprayed bugspray in someone's eyes. Oops."

1033: "Started the hike. Altitude: 6900 feet."

We began the hike up a dirt road that could be driven by a heavy-duty truck. For the first 30 minutes, it was a meandering road that was mostly easy. We all talked while we walked, the difficulty of the road though got worse and worse.

1042: "Got a stick." I picked up an amazing walking stick and widdled it down while I hiked. It became the centerpiece of the group, and "the staff" was featured in many pictures

1101: "First rest stop. We're okay. Doing optimistically well, hoping it stays like this."

1145: "Lunch. Altitude 7200 feet."

        We ate up. As we finished lunch, the group that had climbed the volcano the day before came running down the trail to the lunch area. We all hugged and exchanged words. They told us of what lied ahead with cautious tones. I could hear in their voices that what lie ahead was nothing I could yet imagine. They told us that they left us a present on the summit "if we made it there." We left lunch and IMMEDIATELY it was a new game. It was hills the likes of which I had not seen before. I struggled to get enough friction between my feet and the ground. I fell back many times.

        1244: "Hell. Made stop. Altitude: 8450 feet."

        1315: "Sitting on steep hill trying to get breath. Discussing endurance with group. Altitude: 9045 feet."

        1500: "Finally made it to camp. Altitude: 10,500 feet."

        Coming over the last hill to the camp was so great. To know we were done, at least for the day was such a feeling. Camp was such an experience. At over 10,000 feet, we were right at cloud-level, and were reminded of it all the time. It would be clear and sunny, and we'd be sweating profusely. Then, within 60 seconds, a cloud system would roll in and the temperature would drop from near 65 farenheit to around 35. You could soon see your breath in front of your face and were huddling around the 3 campfires we built to stay warm. Then the clouds would move out and you'd be shedding your layers again trying to keep your body temp low. It was a dizzying dance of throwing clothes on and off to accommodate the carousel of weather conditions. So far, though, it was a dry carousel: no rain. That would soon change.

        After chips and salsa snack (provided by our guides), we settled in to our tents and were relieved to see 100% WATERPROOF GUARENTEE written on their sides. All of a sudden, thunder in the distance. Dark clouds were on the horizon… the type that make your stomach turn a bit. We had minutes to prepare, soon our camp was in the center of a violent thunderstorm. Drizzle turned to downpour, which turned to plummeting temperatures. What began as chilly became freezing, and the precipitaiton turned to nickel-sized hail that pelted us and our tents. We did what we could in our "dry" tents and then realized the true horror. There were leaks. Everywhere. We went into immediate damage-control mode. Keeping at least one set of dry clothes was of the utmost priority. Lacking a dry set would be not only inconvenient, but potentially dangerous. Nobody knew how long the weather would stay poor, and at this altitude hypothermia and altitude sickness were always possibilities.

        We did what we could, laughed as much as we could, and suffered through it all. We ate dinner… grilled hamburgers over a campfire and found ourselves going to sleep at the unreasonably early time of 2000 (8pm). Wakeup was slated for 0400 the next morning.

        Me and 5 friends packed into a 3-person tent, thinking that we needed the extra body warmth but soon discovered the problem wasn't temps, but wetness. Trying to sleep, I soon found my feet wet in a puddle at the bottom of my sleeping bag, and decided a new plan was needed. We found a dryer tent and 3 of us migrated there. At that altitude, nobody slept in the thin air more than a pair of hours or so. At one point, I awoke with the driest mouth I've ever had (our guide told us this was normal at the height), and I got out of the tent to get some water. Then I saw it.

        The rain had stopped and the cloud had lifted. Though it was dark out, I could see two things. First, an expanse of city lights far below us that I had never seen. I had never been this high (altitude-wise… dad…) in my life, and way below us was the lights of Antigua and Guatemala city. They were tiny specks of blue, yellow, green and red dots lying miles beneath us.

        The other thing I saw was not as colorful, but much more incredible. Up. Above me, 3,000 feet above was the shadow of something. A ledge. A top. The summit. For the first time, there it was, three-quarters of a mile above us. I ran back to the tent excited at my discovery and anxious for the challenge that lay above our heads.

        30 APRIL 0430: "We woke up a few minutes ago and prepped. We're eating some dry cereal now. Starting hike in 30 minutes"

        0605: "Left wide trail for tiny jungle switch-back. Impossible. Struggling to breathe."

        That's a pretty accurate description. We could barely put another foot ahead of the other. We had changed to a single-file line, which made stopping impossible. So you just followed the person ahead of you. We proceeded in the jungle, led by a machete-clad guide who cut down any plants that were in our way. The ground beneath us disappeared. It turned to black volcanic ash-sand. With every step forward, you sank and moved 2 steps backward. It was truly impossible. With every movement I found myself metaphor-izing the challenge I found myself in. With every breath of diluted oxygen, I found myself imagining classes, arguments, problems, difficulties and obstacles in my life and with every new step I found myself conquering each of those obstacles one by one mentally. The volcano beneath my feet became a symbol, and I was determined to beat it.

        At 0700 AM, we reached the last plateau, and for the first time, saw the last bit of the trail to the summit. There it was. I had been warned by the first group and by the guides that the last 500 feet were the hardest. It was nearly a vertical climb of pure sand and rocks. I dug my staff straight down and pulled myself up, took a breath, then repeated the process. Every 2 minutes or so, I would reach for my water, take a swig and then motivate myself to keep going. I was making progress, but slowly. Nobody talked. The wind was whipping us and we were bundled in our 4 or 5 layers, hats and gloves. It was pure adrenaline and endurance. Everything, it seemed was working against us, but we refused to give in.

        At 0741 AM on April 30th, I saw it. My memory flashed back to the day before, meeting the first group down at the lunch spot. "We left a present for you at the top," my friend Elise had told me.

        And there it was. Spelled in rocks directly across from where I was. " SAS 09."

        I had made it. We had made it.

        I wiped the small tears that were in my eyes and realized my smile couldn't have been wider. I grabbed for my water and took a swig when- BOOM! The ground shook. As if on cue, Fuego volcano, now only 600 feet below us and about half a mile away blew its top in its bi-hourly eruption. Fire flew out followed by smoke. It couldn't have been more perfect timing. We all cheered and hugged. The feeling of accomplishment was greater than I ever could have imagined.

        I looked around. I was on top of the world. Nothing, besides the two smaller volcanoes, as far as the eye could see was even near our height. I could see lake Aticlan to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. The summit was a circular ridge and a crater in the middle where the volcano's hole once was 10,000 years ago; the black sand a subtle reminder of what lies beneath our feet.

        We spent about 20 minutes before starting our descent. We talked, laughed and just smiled. The sun had risen on our last day in port for Semester At Sea Spring 2009, and the 30 or so of us could not imagine a better ending for a journey around the world. As one person said, "what better a way to end a journey around the world then by being on top of it."

        We descended back to camp from the peak, literally skiing down the sand on the face of the summit. There, we had pancakes and took a 30 minute rest before finishing the descent.



After visiting Antigua for a much-needed lunch, we headed back to Puerto Quetzal. We were hot. We were sweaty. We were tired, and our muscles ached… but our minds had never been better. We beat the Volcano. We beat ourselves.

        --

        At post-port reflections, Professor Jodi Tompson shared with us some of his thoughts. "It seems many of you willingly threw yourselves in adverse conditions, as if to test yourself," he said. His message was that many times in life, we need to struggle, to know we can do it. Acatenango will forever represent that struggle- and what can happen when the will to succeed overpowers the wish to quit. I will hold that close to me as long as I can.

        --

        As we pulled out of port that night, there were more faces than normal on Deck 7. We knew why. It was our last port, and everybody wanted to feel it, to see the land slipping away. The people of Guatemala, represented to me by our many guides and helpers were so welcoming. There exist many problems with crime in the country… and its debilitating poverty makes it easy to see why. I hope to return to the country one day and see bigger, better changes- a more stable government and a better life for its wonderful people.

        So. Back to the beginning: Words, and their limitations.

        As you may have realized, no adjective can sum up my experience. These 4 pages barely scratch the surface. But I think, more than anything, it's the experience and the way it changes me as a person that will best express it. Where words fail, I hope my actions will succeed. To communicate the message of SAS, the message of Acatenango.

As always, Thanks for reading,

Greg

Days 100-103. GUATEMALA

GUATEMALA

        How does one express his self when their only way of doing so simply won’t do?

        That’s the question on everybody’s mind after leaving the Central American country of Guatemala.

        This Voyage is one of perspectives. Each country is not looked at through a new sparkling lens, but from an old dusty one, ripe with impressions of 13 other ports-of-call. Such is the situation of the 800 of us who found ourselves in Guatemala on Tuesday morning. At 97 degrees West longitude, we have traveled nearly 345 degrees around the globe- a mere 15 degrees from where we began in Nassau January 19th.

        So, back to the original question: what does one do when they’ve used up all of their words? I’ve used the same adjectives, amazing, incredible, fantastic, beautiful, for so many things. From Table Mountain in South Africa to the Taj Mahal to my latest adventure in Guatemala, the experiences are so starkly different, so independently affective on myself as a person; and yet, I have to choose between a few overused adjectives.

        But we will try nonetheless.

In Guatemala, I climbed the Volcan Acatenango… The Acatenango Volcano. Acatenango stands at an imposing 13,044 feet above sea level. It is the third highest peak in Guatemala, and also the third highest volcano in all of Central America. It is an inactive volcano, and has been dormant for about 10,000 years. However, it stands right near two other volcanoes- Fuego directly next to it and Agua a few miles away. Fuego erupts mildly every 30 minutes or so, and Agua blows once every decade or so. Fuego’s half-hour blast is enough to shake the ground and scare the crap out of ill-prepared tourists (see: me), but you really don’t want to be around when Agua blows her top. She did so about 2 years ago and covered central Guatemala in smoke and ash for a few long weeks.

On our way to Acetanango, the tallest of the three volcanoes in the area, we stopped at an observation area by a gas station. While we were standing there and looking at the peak we were going to scale in the next 36 hours, Fuego erupted. I jumped back as she belched flames and black smoke and asked “esta normal??” (is this normal!?). Luis, our guide, told me it was. “Es nuestro volcan muy cerca de el eruption?” I asked (how close is our volcano to the one that’s currently erupting). “Muy.” He said with a smile: Very.

We stopped at a gas station to change into a new mode of transportation, Una Camioneta (a chicken bus). It is a old-school school bus that is tricked out in paint and lights and rims. They are common all over Guatemala, and this one, dubbed “Esmerelda” by the name on the windshield, was to take us to the beginning of our climb.

Within an hour or so driving, we had reached the bottom of the Volcano. At 6,900 feet, all we could see was up, and the summit was nowhere to be found in our gazes. What follows is a summary of our climb. With my backpack full of supplies, and my walking stick, I carried my green pocket-log that has been with me most of the voyage. What appears in quotations is exactly as I wrote it during the climb:

29 APRIL 1030: “Here on Volcano. Stacey’s pen works” (I had borrowed a pen from my friend to write for the journey) “Just sprayed bugspray in someone’s eyes. Oops.”

1033: “Started the hike. Altitude: 6900 feet.”

We began the hike up a dirt road that could be driven by a heavy-duty truck. For the first 30 minutes, it was a meandering road that was mostly easy. We all talked while we walked, the difficulty of the road though got worse and worse.

1042: “Got a stick.” I picked up an amazing walking stick and widdled it down while I hiked. It became the centerpiece of the group, and “the staff” was featured in many pictures

1101: “First rest stop. We’re okay. Doing optimistically well, hoping it stays like this.”

1145: “Lunch. Altitude 7200 feet.”

        We ate up. As we finished lunch, the group that had climbed the volcano the day before came running down the trail to the lunch area. We all hugged and exchanged words. They told us of what lied ahead with cautious tones. I could hear in their voices that what lie ahead was nothing I could yet imagine. They told us that they left us a present on the summit “if we made it there.” We left lunch and IMMEDIATELY it was a new game. It was hills the likes of which I had not seen before. I struggled to get enough friction between my feet and the ground. I fell back many times.

        1244: “Hell. Made stop. Altitude: 8450 feet.”

        1315: “Sitting on steep hill trying to get breath. Discussing endurance with group. Altitude: 9045 feet.”

        1500: “Finally made it to camp. Altitude: 10,500 feet.”

        Coming over the last hill to the camp was so great. To know we were done, at least for the day was such a feeling. Camp was such an experience. At over 10,000 feet, we were right at cloud-level, and were reminded of it all the time. It would be clear and sunny, and we’d be sweating profusely. Then, within 60 seconds, a cloud system would roll in and the temperature would drop from near 65 farenheit to around 35. You could soon see your breath in front of your face and were huddling around the 3 campfires we built to stay warm. Then the clouds would move out and you’d be shedding your layers again trying to keep your body temp low. It was a dizzying dance of throwing clothes on and off to accommodate the carousel of weather conditions. So far, though, it was a dry carousel: no rain. That would soon change.

        After chips and salsa snack (provided by our guides), we settled in to our tents and were relieved to see 100% WATERPROOF GUARENTEE written on their sides. All of a sudden, thunder in the distance. Dark clouds were on the horizon… the type that make your stomach turn a bit. We had minutes to prepare, soon our camp was in the center of a violent thunderstorm. Drizzle turned to downpour, which turned to plummeting temperatures. What began as chilly became freezing, and the precipitaiton turned to nickel-sized hail that pelted us and our tents. We did what we could in our “dry” tents and then realized the true horror. There were leaks. Everywhere. We went into immediate damage-control mode. Keeping at least one set of dry clothes was of the utmost priority. Lacking a dry set would be not only inconvenient, but potentially dangerous. Nobody knew how long the weather would stay poor, and at this altitude hypothermia and altitude sickness were always possibilities.

        We did what we could, laughed as much as we could, and suffered through it all. We ate dinner… grilled hamburgers over a campfire and found ourselves going to sleep at the unreasonably early time of 2000 (8pm). Wakeup was slated for 0400 the next morning.

        Me and 5 friends packed into a 3-person tent, thinking that we needed the extra body warmth but soon discovered the problem wasn’t temps, but wetness. Trying to sleep, I soon found my feet wet in a puddle at the bottom of my sleeping bag, and decided a new plan was needed. We found a dryer tent and 3 of us migrated there. At that altitude, nobody slept in the thin air more than a pair of hours or so. At one point, I awoke with the driest mouth I’ve ever had (our guide told us this was normal at the height), and I got out of the tent to get some water. Then I saw it.

        The rain had stopped and the cloud had lifted. Though it was dark out, I could see two things. First, an expanse of city lights far below us that I had never seen. I had never been this high (altitude-wise… dad…) in my life, and way below us was the lights of Antigua and Guatemala city. They were tiny specks of blue, yellow, green and red dots lying miles beneath us.

        The other thing I saw was not as colorful, but much more incredible. Up. Above me, 3,000 feet above was the shadow of something. A ledge. A top. The summit. For the first time, there it was, three-quarters of a mile above us. I ran back to the tent excited at my discovery and anxious for the challenge that lay above our heads.

        30 APRIL 0430: “We woke up a few minutes ago and prepped. We’re eating some dry cereal now. Starting hike in 30 minutes”

        0605: “Left wide trail for tiny jungle switch-back. Impossible. Struggling to breathe.”

        That’s a pretty accurate description. We could barely put another foot ahead of the other. We had changed to a single-file line, which made stopping impossible. So you just followed the person ahead of you. We proceeded in the jungle, led by a machete-clad guide who cut down any plants that were in our way. The ground beneath us disappeared. It turned to black volcanic ash-sand. With every step forward, you sank and moved 2 steps backward. It was truly impossible. With every movement I found myself metaphor-izing the challenge I found myself in. With every breath of diluted oxygen, I found myself imagining classes, arguments, problems, difficulties and obstacles in my life and with every new step I found myself conquering each of those obstacles one by one mentally. The volcano beneath my feet became a symbol, and I was determined to beat it.

        At 0700 AM, we reached the last plateau, and for the first time, saw the last bit of the trail to the summit. There it was. I had been warned by the first group and by the guides that the last 500 feet were the hardest. It was nearly a vertical climb of pure sand and rocks. I dug my staff straight down and pulled myself up, took a breath, then repeated the process. Every 2 minutes or so, I would reach for my water, take a swig and then motivate myself to keep going. I was making progress, but slowly. Nobody talked. The wind was whipping us and we were bundled in our 4 or 5 layers, hats and gloves. It was pure adrenaline and endurance. Everything, it seemed was working against us, but we refused to give in.

        At 0741 AM on April 30th, I saw it. My memory flashed back to the day before, meeting the first group down at the lunch spot. “We left a present for you at the top,” my friend Elise had told me.

        And there it was. Spelled in rocks directly across from where I was. “ SAS 09.”

        I had made it. We had made it.

        I wiped the small tears that were in my eyes and realized my smile couldn’t have been wider. I grabbed for my water and took a swig when- BOOM! The ground shook. As if on cue, Fuego volcano, now only 600 feet below us and about half a mile away blew its top in its bi-hourly eruption. Fire flew out followed by smoke. It couldn’t have been more perfect timing. We all cheered and hugged. The feeling of accomplishment was greater than I ever could have imagined.

        I looked around. I was on top of the world. Nothing, besides the two smaller volcanoes, as far as the eye could see was even near our height. I could see lake Aticlan to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. The summit was a circular ridge and a crater in the middle where the volcano’s hole once was 10,000 years ago; the black sand a subtle reminder of what lies beneath our feet.

        We spent about 20 minutes before starting our descent. We talked, laughed and just smiled. The sun had risen on our last day in port for Semester At Sea Spring 2009, and the 30 or so of us could not imagine a better ending for a journey around the world. As one person said, “what better a way to end a journey around the world then by being on top of it.”

        We descended back to camp from the peak, literally skiing down the sand on the face of the summit. There, we had pancakes and took a 30 minute rest before finishing the descent.



After visiting Antigua for a much-needed lunch, we headed back to Puerto Quetzal. We were hot. We were sweaty. We were tired, and our muscles ached… but our minds had never been better. We beat the Volcano. We beat ourselves.

        --

        At post-port reflections, Professor Jodi Tompson shared with us some of his thoughts. “It seems many of you willingly threw yourselves in adverse conditions, as if to test yourself,” he said. His message was that many times in life, we need to struggle, to know we can do it. Acatenango will forever represent that struggle- and what can happen when the will to succeed overpowers the wish to quit. I will hold that close to me as long as I can.

        --

        As we pulled out of port that night, there were more faces than normal on Deck 7. We knew why. It was our last port, and everybody wanted to feel it, to see the land slipping away. The people of Guatemala, represented to me by our many guides and helpers were so welcoming. There exist many problems with crime in the country… and its debilitating poverty makes it easy to see why. I hope to return to the country one day and see bigger, better changes- a more stable government and a better life for its wonderful people.

        So. Back to the beginning: Words, and their limitations.

        As you may have realized, no adjective can sum up my experience. These 4 pages barely scratch the surface. But I think, more than anything, it’s the experience and the way it changes me as a person that will best express it. Where words fail, I hope my actions will succeed. To communicate the message of SAS, the message of Acatenango.

As always, Thanks for reading,

Greg

Time Change update

(from last night's post)

We pushed one hour forward last night. We are now EST -1, or Central Daylight Time.

We arrive at the Panama Canal in 24 hours!

Greg

Day 104. The Beginning of the End- the last leg starts

Hey all

I can't write as long as I'd like, because I have to get in bed in prep for an Evolution final exam tomorrow morning.

I can feel muscles in my body that I never knew existed, as I slowly recover from the amazing hike. After my exam tomorrow, I will sit down and compose my thoughts on the time in Guatemala- including, of course, the hike- and post it to the blog.

Tonight, at Post-Port Reflections in the Union, I again got up and shared what I was thinking. I told the community much of what I'm thinking for the end of the voyage as well: That I am exceedingly dissapointed with the English language, with words. I have run out of adjectives, I told the ship. For instance, after getting off of this Volcano, I have no idea what to say. If I describe dinner, or a sunset as "amazing" then I don't know what to describe hiking the volcano. If I call it "amazing," it's like I'm doing an injustice to the experience, the volcano, even the dinner! I have to accept that no matter what I say or how I express myself through pictures or words, I will never convey the whole experience- in that way, I am prisoner to my own thoughts and experiences. (Certainly, of course, I'm the most fortunate prisoner that ever lived :-), but a prisoner nonetheless).

I have resolved myself, though, to continue to try to share these experiences. The Volcano climb was... *something*. It was the most incredible feeling I've ever had- cresting the summit, knowing I had conquered my fears and my pains. I'll never convince another of how influential the experience truly was. I can't wait to write about it, and more about what I said at post-port reflections tomorrow and hopefully you'll have a better idea!

At post-port reflections, also, I realized how much of a community member I have truly become. 3 other people who shared mentioned me in their thoughts, and it was truly flattering (and a bit embarrassing!) Kara talked about our last shabbat; Ben talked about our experience as tent-mates on the mountain; and Rachel talked about my speech.

The Last Shabbat.

Tonight, we had our last Shabbat as a shipboard community. It was a very emotional night. Mikey G, the professor of computer science who has been with the Jewish students all voyage long (along with his wife Mindy and son Eli) talked a lot about our community. The thing is, he said, that "in the real world," when you go to a shabbat service, you are entering a jewish community. It may be for a night, or for a weekend, a shabbat, a month, or for 30 years... but the Jewish community exists in part before you get there and after you leave. On the ship, however, we started with nothing. We entered the ship as separate people and became a prideful jewish community that went through lots together. From Passover in Japan and at sea, to havdallah at sunset on the deck, to singing, to sharing, to dealing with hard issues like death... this has been my family aboard, and I will miss them immensely.

It was a tearful night, full of smiles and sharing of our first shabbats back 16 weeks ago. I can't believe how far we have come, and I truly, truly, have never been more proud. I'll miss you all.

We also celebrated Bradee's birthday downstairs at Special Ocassion Dining.

Alright. I really have to go to bed. Love you all.

Greg

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Re: Safe.

Thanks for letting me know you are safe back on the ship. It sounded like a pretty grueling excursion and I was definitely a little more concerned than normal about you. Rest up and get in touch when you can.

Love you much

MOM

On Apr 30, 2009, at 7:18 PM, Gregory Lessans at Semester at sea wrote:

I could not think of a more amazing way to end my time on land for Semester At Sea Spring 2009.

The Volcano climb was so hard. No. Hard will never convey what it is. I don't think I've ever attempted something so physically and mentally challenging. We fought through cramps, through closed paths, through cycloning weather patterns that went from 60 to 30 degrees in a minute, through a massive thunderstorm and nickel-sized hail at our mid-mountain camp. I was one of the few that suffered from Altitude Sickness, but I seem to be okay now.

In the end, when I crossed the summit at 13,044 feet higher than anything in all of southern Guatemala... on the 3rd highest volcano peak in Central America... RIGHT next to "El Fuego," an active volcano that erupted 3 minutes after we reached the summit ... Almost every one of us had tears in our eyes. it was the most amazing feeling, I never thought I could do it.

I will write extensively about this after I'm rested.

For now, we've all boarded the ship for the last time. The sign that sits at the gangway says "FT. LAUDERDALE" under the 'Next Port-of-Call' header, and we're all feeling it.

Talk to you later. I'm going to bed.

Greg

Patty Lessans

443-865-8228

plessans@mac.com

Re: Safe.

Wow Greg I can't wait to read all about it. Actually I can't wait to hear all about it.

Love you see you Thursday here at home.

David Lessans

Chesapeake Spice Co, USA

410-273-2121

On Apr 30, 2009, at 19:18, Gregory Lessans at Semester at sea <gmlessans@semesteratsea.net> wrote:

I could not think of a more amazing way to end my time on land for Semester At Sea Spring 2009.

The Volcano climb was so hard. No. Hard will never convey what it is. I don't think I've ever attempted something so physically and mentally challenging. We fought through cramps, through closed paths, through cycloning weather patterns that went from 60 to 30 degrees in a minute, through a massive thunderstorm and nickel-sized hail at our mid-mountain camp. I was one of the few that suffered from Altitude Sickness, but I seem to be okay now.

In the end, when I crossed the summit at 13,044 feet higher than anything in all of southern Guatemala... on the 3rd highest volcano peak in Central America... RIGHT next to "El Fuego," an active volcano that erupted 3 minutes after we reached the summit ... Almost every one of us had tears in our eyes. it was the most amazing feeling, I never thought I could do it.

I will write extensively about this after I'm rested.

For now, we've all boarded the ship for the last time. The sign that sits at the gangway says "FT. LAUDERDALE" under the 'Next Port-of-Call' header, and we're all feeling it.

Talk to you later. I'm going to bed.

Greg

--
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Safe.

I could not think of a more amazing way to end my time on land for Semester At Sea Spring 2009.

The Volcano climb was so hard. No. Hard will never convey what it is. I don't think I've ever attempted something so physically and mentally challenging. We fought through cramps, through closed paths, through cycloning weather patterns that went from 60 to 30 degrees in a minute, through a massive thunderstorm and nickel-sized hail at our mid-mountain camp. I was one of the few that suffered from Altitude Sickness, but I seem to be okay now.

In the end, when I crossed the summit at 13,044 feet higher than anything in all of southern Guatemala... on the 3rd highest volcano peak in Central America... RIGHT next to "El Fuego," an active volcano that erupted 3 minutes after we reached the summit ... Almost every one of us had tears in our eyes. it was the most amazing feeling, I never thought I could do it.

I will write extensively about this after I'm rested.

For now, we've all boarded the ship for the last time. The sign that sits at the gangway says "FT. LAUDERDALE" under the 'Next Port-of-Call' header, and we're all feeling it.

Talk to you later. I'm going to bed.

Greg

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Here in Guatemala Day 1

Hey all

Today was insane... we went to this place called Iztapa lagoon nearby Puerto Quetzal (where the ship is docked).

I'll write all about it later, but it was one of the most deserted "where are we" moments that I've had in the entire voyage. We ended up on a sandbar in the middle of a river (accessible only by a little dingy boat) that faced the ocean. We were told that it was a bustling place with restaurants, but what we found was pure abandonment. The dingy driver just left us there... in the middle of nowhere... and there was nothing and nobody around. All of the shacks were empty and boarded up, and here we were, 8 americans on a black sand beach (Guatemala is known for their black volcanic sand beaches). So... we went swimming in the Pacific, met a guy from Israel named Aaron and eventually found a way to get back to the mainland from our desert island and back to the ship after a great lunch in the middle of El Pueblo Puerto Iztaba.

Spanish is great. Every time I get in a spanish-speaking country I just go crazy. I can communicate pretty well, I've found, and actually had a really long conversation in only Spanish with a police officer today. When the conversation ended with 'hasta,' I was like beaming at how great it is to talk in a foreign language.

The ship has a curfew of 2300. I'm back earlyish, it's 2131, but everyone should be coming back soon.

OK So tomorrow...

Tomorrow, I leave for the Acatanengo Volcano Climb. Here's the description:

"ITINERARY:
Day 1: In the morning, transfer to the foothills of the towering, twin-peaked Acatenango Volcano. Then begin a
six-hour strenuous but rewarding hike through fields and Pacific cloud forest. Spectacular views over neighboring
volcanoes, the Antigua Valley and even Lake Atitlan will accompany the hike. The tree line stops at 10,500 feet, a
clear sign that we are close to the peak. Reach the summit after lunch, and from our 13,044-foot perch, catch
amazing views over nearby, smoking Fuego Volcano. Make camp near the summit and enjoy a hot meal before
retiring for the night in a tent. (L, D; tent)
Day 2: A pre-dawn wake-up call is provided for those who wish to hike back to the peak for a summit sunrise.
Your reward includes magnificent views over eleven other volcanoes in the distance, Lake Atitlan to the west, and
the Pacific Ocean to the south. Return to the campsite, have breakfast and then head down the mountain. Once in
Antigua, enjoy a late lunch and then some free time before returning to the ship. (B, L) "

A few people with experience have said this is a "real" climb... not like table mountain (which was hard as shit already...). You have to worry about things like altitude sickness and all that. It should be an insane experience. Also, it's an active volcano. Past SASers, and the field office have told me that its common to roast marshmallows over the free-flowing magma that runs in different places. I will be able to share with you what actually happens once I'm back safe (IF i'm back safe, ha).

The Israeli who I met on the beach today had just come back from the same volcano, and told me to expect "a different world up there."

So. Without further adieu... wish me luck, and I'll talk to you in 2 days!

Best,

Greg.

ARRIVED in Guatemala

We have arrived in Guat., just finished the Diplomatic Briefing.

A little unnerving. There is a lot of crime and scary things here, and some new unconfirmed cases of Swine Flu in the country.

We're gonna go explore. I'll post tonight before my Volcanic Adventure starts tomorrow.

Greg

Day 100. It's Day OneHundred.

Rewind.

We're at Day One Hundred!?

UNBELIEVABLE. If you would have asked me before the voyage, or when I boarded the ship in Nassau if we would ever get to Day 100, I never would have believed you. And yet, we're here.

Coinciding with Day 100, tomorrow we arrive at our LAST port-of-call: Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala. We're all so excited for this last port, and we have spent the entire week both rounding out our academics and prepping for Guat. Tonight, we had our last logistical pre-port with Luke, Les and Reg, and it was a really bittersweet time. We've looked forward to pre-ports before arrival in each location, and we remember them quite well... some of the best moments from the voyage have happened with all of us around the union for pre-port. I can't believe the last one is finally behind us!

In other news, I met with Marjorie, one of the lifelong learners to do a end-of-the-voyage interview. She had interviewed me before the voyage to get a feel of what I was expecting, and now talked to me about what had hpapened over the past few months. One of the craziest things that I realized was the word association drill she did with me. Before leaving (via skype between Baltimore and her in Colorado), she had read off each of the ports of call and asked me to describe them in 5 words. Before we left on the voyage, I could barely get through 1 or 2 words for each country. When she asked about mauritius, the only word I could come up with was "island."

Now, after the voyage, she repeated the exercise, and I found words freely flowing out of my mouth for each of the countries we have stopped in. They really are "real" places, now. We talked a lot about her experiences, and her time with re-entry at the end of her 3 voyages. It was a great conversation.

I also took my Biomedical Ethics final today and turned in my final portfolio of writing for my Media Studies class. Also... brace yourself... I got an A in Global Studies class!! I was way way overjoyed, and extremely surprised. It was quite a nice surprise.

Really, though, it's a weird feeling knowing that tomorrow we'll be on our last approach to a port-of-call. Guatemala promises to be a very different experience than any of our other countries, and our only port called on in the Americas. I'm very excited, and am gonna hit the sack so I can wake up early tomorrow, see us come in, and welcome the American Diplomats on board for our last Diplomatic Briefing.

Alrighty... good night from off the coast of "The Guat"

Greg

Monday, April 27, 2009

Day 99. Part 2. Current Events Affecting the Ship

Hey guys

In the past hours and days, many current events have had an indirect or direct on the ship.

*Guatemala Crime- Guatemala, our final port of call (we arrive on Tuesday), has had a surge of recent violence, especially towards tourists (great). ISE has let us know, repeatedly, about all of these threats and how to counter them. The ship has mandated a 2300 hours curfew while in port, whether on the ship or in town, and has advised against traveling anywhere after sunset. I am not worrying too much about it, but we'll definitely be alert.

*Swine Flu- If you're following the news, you'll know about a break-out of Swine Flu that is slowly becoming a health problem. It's epicenter is in Mexico, but cases have spread to the US, New Zealand, UK and Israel. Given its immediate proximity to Guatemala, this is a real concern to all of us. We were briefed this evening on it. Ironically, Greg Weaver, one of the UVA medical students who had joined the voyage from India to Japan had given a lecture about the very possibility of a influenza pandemic.

*Italian Cruise Ship escapes Pirates in the Gulf of Aden- For those of you who have followed the voyage from the beginning, you'll know we changed our itinerary to avoid the Gulf of Aden back in December, 2008. A cruise ship flagged in Italy just out-ran pirates who attempted to board and fired "hundreds" of rounds in the air at passengers on the deck. Everybody's safe. Good thing we avoided the area. They left Cape Town and sailed east to the Suez to go back to Italy... eerily similar to our route.

*ANC wins South Africa Election- Back in Feb., when we were in Cape Town, I had countless discussions with people about the "big election coming up" in April. The ANC has come out on top, and critics are calling the peaceful election "a great step for SA's democracy"

-

So yeah. Hopefully things will be safe and healthy in our last port of call! I'm getting back to studying for my biomedical ethics final, which is at 0800 tomorrow morning.

PS. We jumped an hour last night and are now EST -2 hours.

Talk tomorrow.

Greg

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Day 99. The account of a Sunset.

I's 1906 here (7:06 pm) and I'm sitting on deck 7 aft looking out at the sky. So many people are out on the 4 external decks looking out back at the ocean, because the sun is just a few degrees from setting. Since we've been heading almost due east this entire voyage, the Sun has always set directly behind us, literally retreating into our wake.

Tonight is cloudless, a perfectly round fireball changing from yellow to red, to a deep purplish hue now, it is truly awesome in the most literal sense of the word- we are all in awe.

More people have come to join now, everybody is leaning on the rail with their elbows and just letting the wind hit them in the face. Even though people are chatting, most people aren't talking much. This is one of those quiet moments that inspire reflection and introspection. As I said in Namibia, there are times in our lives that we wonder whether what we are seeing is real or is just thought up in our minds. This is one of those moments.

It's just a centimeter off of the horizon, now, and half of it has run into a really thin cloud. It looks like the sun is cut in half across the middle.

People keep turning around with their cameras on video mode, recording everybody's reaction to this.

It's hit the horizon now, sitting on the edge of the water. People are hugging, couples have their arms around each other.

This is really insane. It's just sitting on the horizon, as if somebody hit the pause button. The perfectly round ball is about a a third way descended, and has changed all sorts of glowing colors, like an ember in the base of a fire, maybe.

Halfway down now. Silence on the decks. The only sound around me is my fingers hitting the keys. Not one person, including myself, is looking anywhere but directly out... west at the last remnants of the sun.

Only about a third remains, and it's barely pink. This is the moment where everybody looks, trying to see when the last little bit of sun disappears.

....

... Almost .... a barely perceptible little peek.

And... ..... done. 1914. Everybody's clapping. Everywhere, faces have turned back around, looking back towards the ship and resuming their activities. The sun is down, and the sky is now following. It'll turn a few different shades before going dark within the hour.

A minute past sunset, and the amount of people on the decks has been reduced by half. Everybody has things to do, finals to study for, papers to write and conversations to be had. When we're on a ship sailing around the world though, it's amazing to have moments like this that remind us just how amazing this time really is.

Greg

Day 98. Global Ends!

I was awoken this morning very abruptly by none other than Captain Jeremy.

He alerted us as soon as he was done talking, we would have a mandatory all-passenger muster station drill. We're fairly used to these by now, and the whole routine is down- grab your lifejacket, put on warm clothes, and go to your muster station (mine is A1). We're required to do a drill once a month so this was our 3rd or 4th time shuffling up there, and the urgency has definitely disapeared. Instead of freaking out when the ship's general alarm sounded, I moseyed out of bed, brushed my teeth (I figured my morning breath would be the biggest health hazard of the ship), and then ran upstairs to the outside deck.

Ahhh, mornings aboard the Explorer.

The rest of the day was spent cramming for our global studies final, which happened at 1600. It was tough. I was annoyed at a lot of the questions, but I'm not getting too worked up about it. After the test, we had a great sunset-filled dinner and just hung out all night laughing, playing scrabble and talking. The ship also showed 3 new episodes of 'The Office' as well. It was nice to do anything besides study. Tomorrow is a "study day" and I plan on sleeping in and relaxing. I have a short multiple-choice test the following day, so I'll review some of that, and we'll be in Guatemala before we know it!

Thanks for all your emails, as always.

Talk to you tomorrow!

Greg

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Day 97. Finals, Finals, Finals

Hey... didn't get a chance to write yesterday, was busy studying for finals.

Just as an FYI, we added an hour last night and are now on California time!!! EST-3. It's really, really weird, considering 2 weeks ago we were scooting around the East China Sea.

I'll write more when we get through our global test today at 1600.

Greg

Friday, April 24, 2009

Day 96. Inside 2 weeks.

I remember, sitting in the comfort of my apartment in College Park, MD, reading the blogs of students on the Semester at Sea Fall 2008 voyage.

There were a few that I kept up with, and read with anticipation and excitement day after day, in preparation for my own voyage.

One entry jumped out at me, and I've never forgotten it. The student wrote "I can't believe in 2 weeks this whole thing will be over."

I sat, pondered, tried to imagine what this girl was going through- how she could be on the end of something so massive that I hadn't even begun. And now, it's my turn... 13 wonderful days left aboard this voyage of a lifetime. Still, as sappy and melodramatic as it sounds, I've already come to one conclusion about SAS. That girl, the one who wrote the blog, her voyage on the ship was ending, but the massive voyage that is life after this experience hadn't even begun. So, instead of living each of the next 13 days in mourning of what's over, I'm attempting to stay in the moment: I've been going outside much more often, catching sunrises and sunsets with increasing frequency, and spending as much time as possible simply watching the water go by- because I can.

In the mean time, I'm crankin out papers like I'm getting paid to do it. I knocked out 2 more FDPs today, and finished 1/2 of my final Biomedical Ethics paper tonight. I'll finish that bad boy up tomorrow by the afternoon, and then crawl in a hole and study for my global exam on Saturday morning. It's so hard to do work on this ship!

In other news, Jodi and Holly Tompson (Jodi's a business professor and Holly's his wife) took me and 5 other people out to "fancy dinner" downstairs in the special dining room tonight. I have been tutoring their 8th grade son, Ben, in algebra, throughout the voyage... and this was their thank you. They also have 2 other younger kids who are so much fun to mess around with. I'll miss them all a lot. We enjoyed 5 courses, champagne and 2 bottles of wine amongst the 7 of us, and it was really lovely. Global studies also ended this morning, with a review session to follow tomorrow.

Off to bed so I can attempt to right my haywire sleeping habits. Losing an hour every other night has certainly taken its toll on me.

Good night everyone,

Greg

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Day 95. Workin towards the end of academics

Like I said like 3 months ago, it's very easy to forget that we're at school here. Still, aboard a floating university, the faculty always like to remind us, and we're in the heat of the work right now.

We have 2 more days of classes, and then our looming Global Studies final exam. After that, we have our A-day final exams before our last port-of-call, Guatemala. After 3 days there, we have B exams, and then its our smooth sailing all the way north to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, USA.

Today, I spent my time writing FDPs for classes and starting to study for global. I napped, watched some scrubs, and hung out with friends like we always tend to do on our days at sea. The water has calmed out after a rough departure from Hawaii, and we've got nothin' but 3,000 miles ahead of us before arriving in "the Guat."

Yesterday, the entire ship was privvied to a great evening function, called "Dirty Jobs: the Cast and Crew of the MV Explorer." The four top-ranking officers (Capt. Jeremy, the Staff Captain, Hotel director and Chief Engineer) sat at a long table and answered our questions about everything from recycling aboard the ship to pirate defenses. I took a bunch of notes so I could type up some of the most interesting answers, and here they are below!

Q: Tell us about water usage
A: The ship produces up to 500 TONS of water a day through de-salination techniques. Average ship consumption is 120 tons of water per day while we're at sea. It's slightly less while in port (many people sleep off of the ship)

Q: How many potatoes does the ship use (We eat a lot of starch)
A: The ship plans on 500 g of potatoes per person, per day at sea. That averages to almost 400 POUNDS of potatoes consumed daily

Q: Does the ship recycle?
A: There is no recycling on board; but glass is crushed, cans are compacted, separated, and then delivered to reclycling centers in each port-of-call

Q: How much does it cost to traverse the Panama Canal?
A: For our ship, it's approximately $114,000 to cross the canal

Q: What about fuel usage?
A: The ship can hold 1,190 TONS of fuel in its tank. It takes approximately 700 tons to go from Hawaii to Puerto Quetzal, Guatemala (about 3,300 miles). The ship gets about 8.5 to 9 miles per ton on average.

Q: What's the most fuel-efficient speed?
A: Stopped. No, but seriously, about 14 knots, when 1/4 engines are running at 85%

Q: How is electricity generated?
A: The ship has 4 major generators. 2 are used while at sea, and all 4 are used while entering and leaving the harbors (because the ship takes a lot of power to get into such tight berthing places)

Q: Tell us about Pirates!
A: We utilize the 'Monty Python defense mechanism' : "Run away! Run away!" <laughs>. Seriously though, we can travel up to 30 knots, and anything over 17 knots is pretty much impossible to board the ship. We also have a newly acquired magnetic acoustic device that can produce a... quite uncomfortable intense beam of sound at anybody trying to board the ship. We also utilize old-fashioned methods such as high-pressure fire hoses and water jets to prevent anybody trying to overtake us.

Q: How many man-overboards have you had in your four years as captain of the MV Explorer? What's the craziest thing students have done in your tenure?
A: None. And you all pretty much 'shape up' when you see me coming, so I don't see too much craziness

Q: What are the stabilizers, how do they work, what do they do?
A: They are 4 meter long aerofoils that extend in the water on each side of the ship. They are equipped with a gyrosphere that can tell how the ship is pitching and rolling. If the ship rolls to the starboard side, the starboard fin would angle up, and the port side would angle down- returning the ship to normal position.

Q: Captain, if you're here, who's driving the ship?
A: I don't actually "drive" much. I get to "Park" the ship when she comes into harbor, but other than that, 3 first officers rotate on 4 hour shifts to drive the ship from port to port.

Q: What about your function as "the law?" Since we're in international waters, do you have the final say in everything?
A: I technically represent the flag-nation of the ship, the Bahamas. If a major crime was committed, though, I would alert US Authorities. Other than that, SAS would deal with minor discipline issues.

Q: Can you marry people while at sea?
A: My wife doesn't let me.

Q: How far can the ship roll safely (my question)
A: Amazingly, the Explorer can roll all the way to 67 Degrees in either direction and return safely. Any more than that, we would face a possible capsizing.
Q(Follow up): How far did we roll when we hit the massive wave at the harbor in Casablanca?
A: I'm not sure, because I was clutching anything i could find in the bridge. However, based on the horizon line, I would estimate nearly a 40 degree roll. It was pretty bad.

... Alright, that about does it! It was very interesting, and I walked away saying "I want to be the captain of a ship!"

To clarify on the Morocco incident, the harbor is very shallow, and rough waves went straight to the surface into a major groundswell that rolled the ship. I asked the captain afterwards if he was worried at that point. He laughed and said no, and that it would take a lot to worry him.

... Okay. Time to go to sleep. Shout out to Elyssa's mom, who apparently reads my blog!

Good night from the Pacific,

Greg

FYI: we move an hour, and are now at EST -4 !

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

A Guest Writer on GLessansAtSea !

Hey everyone.

My good friend Hannah on the voyage had an insane experience in Japan, and I want to share it with you. When she told me the story in its entirety, I had to fight back tears. You know when everything seems horrible, and like your life is just going to end... and then all of a sudden, things just seem to "line up". All of a sudden, the most horrible situation may turn out to be a wonderful one.

This is Hannah's story of losing her US Passport in Tokyo Japan, 24 hours before the ship sailed to Hawaii (No passport = no sailing = game over, go home.)

Enjoy it! Her blog is http://hpontheship.blogspot.com in case you'd like to keep up with her travels or get some more insight on the trip!

--Greg

*Her blog entry, copied in part, appears below*

"The next morning we woke up, got ready to meet Chris for Adrienne’s tattoo appointment, and I realized my purse was missing. FML. Game over. Life over. City of misfortune. I searched the room through and through. I checked everyone else’s bags, I wandered the streets, I went back to the club but it was closed and wouldn’t open again until 3pm. My purse was nowhere to be found. Everything was gone.

Now I know that losing those possessions was incredibly stupid and irresponsible and I felt horrible. I wanted to dig a deep, deep hole and crawl into it and never come out. I felt ashamed that this kind of idiocy could have happened to me. Who leaves their purse with ALL OF THEIR BELONGINGS and OTHER PEOPLE’S belongings in a club. WHO? I do. Sooooo sooo sooo stupid.

We met up with Chris and told him the situation. He immediately brought us to a police cube, which they have on nearly every street and we reported the loss/theft. I could barely talk. I couldn’t eat. I felt terrible that this was putting a huge, black rain cloud over everyone’s second-to-last day in Japan. I didn’t want anyone to miss out on their plans because of my foolishness. Kendra had planned to meet up with Mary, so I told her to go. Adrienne wanted to get a tattoo, Jill was going to go to the Pokemon store, and we both had tickets to go to a Japanese baseball game and I didn’t want her to miss it.

Kendra went off at noon to meet Mary, Jill met up with Win to tell him she couldn’t come to the Pokemon store, and then Adrienne, Chris, Jill and I went to eat since it was noon and we hadn’t eaten.

I didn’t eat. I just sat, wanting to wake up from the nightmare I was in. I decided that I would go back to the club at 3 to make sure my bag wasn’t there. I hoped and prayed and wished it would be there. Everyone kept telling me that if you lose something in Japan, people will turn it in to the closest police station. They told me no one steals. City of lies.

After everyone ate, Chris took Adrienne to get her tattoo. Jill and I came with and waited while the tattooist embellished the design and colored it in and drew it on Adrienne’s shoulder. We watched him start the process and then Chris, Jill, and I went back to the train station so Jill could catch a train to get back to the ship in Yokohama and meet up with the people going to the baseball game. Jill was really hesitant about leaving me, since I literally had nothing. No passport, no credit card, no debit card, no cash, no phone, not even the green information sheet we are given by SAS for each port that has important phone numbers and addresses on it. Chris let me use his phone to call Mary, though, and I planned to meet Kendra and Mary in another district of Tokyo, so I wouldn’t be totally alone.

So we went to the train station and got a guard to open our locker since the key was in my purse. That cost extra. Then we got our huuuuge backpacks out and Jill hugged me goodbye. She gave me about 4000 Yen since I had no money. She was so good to me. Such a good friend. She really didn’t want to leave me, either, but I didn’t want her to miss out on Tokyo because of me. Adrienne had also been incredibly nice and understanding. I don’t know why they were being so nice, because I didn’t feel like I deserved anyone’s sympathy.

Jill left, and Chris helped me catch the right train to meet up with Kendra and Mary. I found them in the train station in Asakusa. I told them my plan to go back to the club and if all else fails to go the US Embassy to get a new passport. The embassy seemed like a last resort because I was still holding on to the idea that I would find my purse in the club. It is the city of magic, anyway.

They told me they planned to see the Thunder Gate and some other sights. I didn’t want to impede on Kendra’s time with her friend nor her one chance to see these things in Tokyo and I told them this. But I also told them that I had nothing. I didn’t know the language, the area, I had no way of contacting anyone, I had very little money. So Kendra wrote down some phone numbers and the address of the embassy from her green sheet on a piece of paper for me, and I went off in Tokyo, on my own. Completely alone, apart from my 30-pound backpack. I was scared out of my mind.

I got on a train back to Shibuya and went in search of Vuenos. I stopped in a hotel and asked for directions, but the concierge didn’t speak good English and didn’t really know where the club was. A guy behind me was talking in English so I asked him if he knew the club Vuenos. He did and he wrote out directions for me. City of miracles. After about 45 minutes of traveling on my own in Tokyo, wandering the streets, making wrong turns, staring wide-eyed at the Japanese characters on the train maps, taking wrong trains, I found the club. I knocked on the door, asking to go in and look for my purse. No one spoke English. I gestured and spoke slowly. They sent me up to the office above the club and the same thing happened. Finally they let me in and the Japanese man I had been talking to told me I wouldn’t find it. A band was tuning up on stage, as I hunted for my purse.

It was gone. Everything was gone. I had soooo hoped it would turn up, that no one took it, that it was just left in a corner behind a speaker. But no, it was gone. With disappointment, I told the man working at the club, “Arigoto (thank you)” and began to leave. Then I asked him if I could use the club’s phone. He got confused and wrote down the club phone number. I tried to explain and I realized that I really had no one to call anyways, so I just left.

I wandered back to the train station so I could go to Akasaka, a district in Tokyo where the US Embassy is located. I asked security what train to take. They told me to take two subways. So I went off in search of the subway station. Along the way I saw a few SASers. I asked a Megan, a friend from South Africa, if I could have her green sheet. She gave it to me and asked what happened. I told her and her group and they sympathized. I ran into another SASer and asked where the subway station was. She pointed me in the right direction and asked if I was okay. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I couldn’t cry because I had to get to the embassy so I said no but kept walking.

I found the subway and got my tickets. Finally I made it to Akasaka. I’d say it was about 6:30 or 7 by this time, but I don’t have a watch. It was getting dark out though. I began wandering along the streets looking for the address. Of course the addresses aren’t plainly displayed on windows of buildings or anything so my prospects of finding this place were looking dim.

I began to look for someone who could help me and I saw a black man and woman walking along towards me, who looked like they were speaking English. I walked up to them and asked if they spoke English. The man told me yes. I asked if he knew where the US Embassy was and he gave me directions to the embassy. I thanked him, and then he said, “You know it’s closed, though.” That was it. I started crying. I must have looked so foolish: standing on the street, disheveled hair, pale-faced, carrying a backpack almost as big as me, wearing the same outfit from the night before, crying in front of strangers.

This man immediately asked what was wrong and, in between sobs, I told him that I was student studying abroad and had lost my passport and needed a new one by tomorrow in order to continue on with my program. He whipped out his phone and called the officer on duty at the embassy. How did he have that number in his phone, you may ask? Because he worked at the embassy! Aaron Baloney (great name), Chief of the Military Liaison Group, my hero. CITY OF MIRACLES.

I composed myself, and Aaron gave me the phone and I talked to the duty officer. She instructed me to come back as soon as the embassy opened the next day (8:30am) and bring either my birth certificate or driver’s license and the copies of my passport that I had. She also informed me that it might take 3 to 5 days to get a new passport so I should discuss my options with SAS. I had no options. If I didn’t get a passport by the next day, I wouldn’t be able to sail with the ship to Hawaii. I would miss 9 days of school on the ship, which is like the most school we ever have in a row. I would have to pay for a pretty damn expensive ticket to Hawaii. I had to get a new passport by the next day.

After I got all the information I hung up, and thanked Aaron profusely for letting me use his phone. His mom, Judy, gave me a big hug and said, “It’s okay, honey. I’m a mom.” I needed that hug more than she will ever know. Aaron asked if I had a place to stay for the night and I told him I was going to go back to the ship in Yokohama. He asked if I had money to get back to the ship and I told him I had about 2000 Yen. He, then gave me 3000 Yen and directed me towards the right train to take. I started crying again because I was so moved by his compassion. His mom put her arm around me and said that she had been having a crappy day until she met me and I brightened up her day. Oh you’re having a crappy day?

I thanked them for their help and they made me promise I would call once I got back to the ship safely.

Back to the subway. At this point I changed out my dress and tights from the night before and put on sweatpants. Earlier I didn’t feel like I had time to change or eat or drink or do anything. I also had a tiny box of Frosted Flakes that I jacked from the ship’s breakfast a few days before. In new clothes and with some food in my stomach I got on the subway back to Shinjuku. Once in Shinjuku Station I tried finding a train to Yokohama. A woman came over and asked if I needed help. I told her I needed to go to the Nihon-Odori station in Yokohama and she helped me buy a ticket for the right train. City of miracles. So many strangers helped me in Tokyo. Thank God.

I got on the train. I had to stand for a while until the car emptied out a bit. When I finally got a seat, I was exhausted. I had been hauling my huge backpack around all day and it had been a pretty draining day without the extra weight. Everyone else on the train was exhausted too. The Japanese really know how to sleep standing up while holding on to the overhead bar on a train. I’ve never seen anything like it. Every single person is asleep.

My stop was one of the last ones and it had been about an hour ride, but it could have been quicker if there had been less stops. I got off the train and saw some SASers. I asked if I could follow them back to the ship since I didn’t know where the ship was docked, because the last time I had seen the ship was in Kobe. They agreed and we made our way back. When getting back onto the ship everyone swiped their ship ID cards and when it came to me I told security I lost my card. She asked for my passport and I told her I lost that too. I explained that I had lost my bag that contained most of my belongings. She seemed frustrated and began asking me all of these questions like my room number, my ID number, what classes I took on the ship. Once she was satisfied that I am indeed a student on Semester at Sea she told me to go immediately to the front desk and alert them of my passport. I did so.

Honey, the lady at the front desk, made me a new ship ID and called the dean on duty. The advice from the dean on duty was to go to the embassy as soon as possible the next day and get a new passport. He said it could be done pretty quickly, and another student had lost her passport earlier and she already had a new passport. That gave me some hope.

I got back to my room and put down my bag. Kendra was there. She asked how everything went and told me that if I couldn’t get a new passport she would ask her aunt and uncle in Hawaii if I could stay with them until the ship got there. I couldn’t really handle that idea and at that point, all I wanted to do was call home. All I wanted was to talk to my mom. I tried to buy a phone card but Japan has its own network for phones and Internet so phone cards wouldn’t work and the Internet on the ship was turned off. I didn’t know what to do. I really couldn’t keep it together much longer.

I went over to Caroline’s room and told her what happened and asked her if her phone was working. It was and she let me borrow it. She let me use it the whole night, even after she went out. I have such good, caring friends. I am so lucky.

I went outside on the front of the ship and tried calling my mom. She didn’t answer because it was pretty early back home. Finally she called back and I broke down. I was scared, tired, devastated, and in need of some motherly love. She gave it to me. She was so supportive, so levelheaded. She was my mom and that’s what I needed then. Thanks Mom. I love you very very very very very very much.

Once I got a hold of myself, I called my parent’s college friend Mark Schumacher, who I planned to meet up with the next day and told him of the situation. He told me we could meet up a bit later after I sorted everything out at the embassy, so I said I’d call him the next day. Then I called Aaron Baloney and left a message on his answering machine thanking him for everything and letting him know that I got back to the ship alright.

It was weird having a phone again. I talked to my mom several times that night as she did more and more research on getting a new passport made. I finally went to bed around 1.

The next morning I got up at 6, I packed my smaller, more manageable backpack with my drivers license, a copy of my birth certificate, a copy of my passport, two passport photos, $100 USD (I had $102 USD left in my safe), 4000 Yen, the address for the embassy, Caroline’s phone, and some cereal and went on my way to the embassy. I got to the embassy at about 8:20am. I went through security and then took a number and waited. I was third in line, I believe. They called my number, I told them the situation, gave them all my papers, filled out some paperwork, and waited for them to process an emergency passport for me. An emergency passport is valid for one year. I have to get it renewed in the US when I get back. It looks the same as other passports, except it has EMERGENCY written across it and I think it has less pages. It also won’t have all the cool stamps, stickers, and visas my old passport had. But oh well, it’s a passport.

While I waited for my passport, I watched the cutest Japanese family. A mom, a dad, and a little boy and little girl. They spoke fluently in English as well. Those little kids were so cute. The mom was counting some yen, and the little girl leaned over her mom’s shoulder and said “Is that mine?” and her mom said, “No,” and the girl said, “Oh…well where’s mine?” Then the two parents got up to talk to one of the workers at the embassy and the little boy sat at the table trying to open his water bottle. “Daddy! It’s tight!” he cried out, when he couldn’t open the bottle. His dad didn’t respond. “Tight! Tight! Tight! Daaaaaaad it’s tiiiiiiiiiiiiight.” Still no response. It was pretty funny. Finally he gave up.

At one point I looked up and Aaron Baloney was walking towards me. I stood up immediately and thanked him again. I asked if he got my message and he said yes. I told him I would pay him back for his loan and he gave me his e-mail address and told me he was glad everything worked out. Aaron Baloney saved my life.

At about 10 o’clock I had a new passport, so I called the dean on duty on the ship and let him know, then I called my mom to let her know, everything worked out."