Until next time...

     Though it is difficult to grasp, the culmination of my voyage is rapidly approaching. The ship has returned to the Northern Hemisphere for the final time, and it is quickly approaching the final point of debarkation in Fort Lauderdale. Thus, the time has come for me to write my final entry into this blog. Thank you to everyone who read it; I hope you enjoyed!
     As I leave the ship for the final time, in addition to my eclectic array of old and new material possessions, I will be taking along with me an accumulation of memories that I pray to never forget. Unfortunately, I recognize that there is an undeniable tendency for memories to jumble and fade, and for the intricate details to fall beneath the horizon. While I have taken numerous steps to delay this, to an extent it may be inevitable—with time, older memories fade and they are replaced with newer, fresher memories. What will never fade, however, are my broad observations, my unique realizations, and my growing spiritual appreciation. A growing understanding of myself as a global citizen and my ideas on what that means must have implications in everything I do. No issue can henceforth be understood in the same context that I placed it prior to embarking on this journey around the world. So, as a final summary, I will not recount the memories of lying on a Vietnam beach, or of seeing the Taj Mahal, or even of playing with school children in Mauritius. Rather, I will recount why, in the broader scheme of life, each of these instances has had such a profound impact on the essence of my being.  Many of my observations are admittedly idealistic, but great change necessarily stems from the so-called foolish dreams of a naïve romantic. A child’s dream is only silly until it becomes a mature adult’s reality. As I learn and mature, so shall these dreams. Prayers for peace, dreams of serenity, and demands for tranquility shall only grow with time, and I know that in my life the world will join us in this pursuit. Thank you to my absolutely amazing parents for affording me this incomparable opportunity; thank you to each of you for taking the time to read and follow up on my life; thank you to everyone who has made these past few months to me all that they have been.
     There is a scene in my favorite TV sitcom, How I Met Your Mother, in which Ted, a sarcastic idealist, is spilling his heart out to his friend Marshall, a hopeless romantic, over a girl who is moving away the next day to study in Germany. Ted and the girl decide to break up, and with 24 hours to go until she leaves for Germany he feels completely helpless. Attempting to persuade Ted to have one more great night Marshall asks Ted how he would act if he knew he was going to lose his leg the very next day. Would he sit around and mope, or would he run, jump, and do cartwheels? Would he waste it, or would he live up his leg? Well, Teds response is deeper than one might understand at first sight. If I were going to lose my leg tomorrow, Ted notes, how would it be so strong that today I am able to do all those things. And, honestly if I were losing my leg tomorrow I’d probably be inquiring about prosthetics or other options.
   In addition to being a cute anecdote this teaches us that it is not really over tomorrow. Even as life on the ship comes to a screeching halt, the journey continues on. If the journey were ending tomorrow I may be uneasy, but knowing that the journey will continue through acts of spreading kindness is a constant reminder that this trip has merely just begun. Japan, China, Vietnam, India, Mauritius, South Africa, Ghana, and Brazil. They have all come and gone; now it is the U.S. A’s turn. Now comes the real test of worth. When I get home, and I have had the opportunity to learn too much, will I spread it or waste it. Will I teach others to run, jump, and do cartwheels, or will I simply lock it up as a fading memory of acrobats around the world?
Well, as long as people are willing to learn….
Godspeed 

Why my head looks like Challah

The last day,
        Recall a scene in HIMYM where Marshall asks Ted, “If you knew you would have one day left before you lost your leg, would you sit and more or run around, jump, dance?” Ted, inspirationally responds by saying that the scenario is ridiculous. If I were going to lose my leg tomorrow, how would I be able to do all that. AND, would I be getting a fake leg? See, his point was this, don’t be sappy, don’t be deep, just have fun. I think he was trying to tell Marshall that they should both get their hair braided. See the connection?
        Well, neither one got their hair braided, but I did. I look hotter than the Brazilian women I couldn’t stop checking out. Honestly, I didn’t do much else on this last day, walked around Salvador a bit, had lunch, walked some more and came back to the ship. It probably didn’t deserve a blog of it’s own. UNLESS I GOT MY HAIR DID.
I will have one recap blog coming soon.
Until then, peace out hombres/

If Jesus is playing Lebron I'm playing Dwayne Wade

Domo OBRIGATO Mr. Roboto’s,
           So on day number three we did a lot, a whole freakn, lot. Normally, it would consititute a 3-4 page blog. Today, however, finals are coming up and I am far to busy (Portugese for lazy) to write that much. Prepare for the quickest synopsis you have yet received. Don’t get too excited though, it’s not that short.
       8 am: I wake up, don’t brush my teeth because Tahlor and I both realize we forgot tooth paste, and I go down stairs for a really good complimentary breakfast. Meet up with the girls, Carly, Jill and Ivy, and by 8:30 load the bus for a day-tour of Rio de Janeiro.
        Real talk, it was awesome. There was an eclectic group on our trip with an older woman from London, his mother from Australia, a few from Argentina, and a tour guide who was extremely multilingual. We all joined together, and the day started with a trip to my boy JC.
        Christ the Redemer, as it is so called, is the second Jesus I have seen with a killer view. Problem is, this one was covered by scaffolding. Every few years it goes under routine repairs (hence the scaffolding—the cause was not that it was struck by lightning or that someone spray painted on it as SAS rumors would have you believe). The statue is on Corcovado (Camel—like Scottsdale) Mountain, and has a panoramic view of the entire city. It is much bigger than I had imagined, and was awesome. Whiel there, a man shooting some documentary asked me questions; one was if I was disappointed that Christ was covered. After ruling out the answer that Christ is always covered and it is our duty to uncover with through acts of worship and faith, I simply said, I was disappointed to learn that Jesus is not fully visible, but I pray for his quick return. Lechaim.
        From the statue of the original J-man we returned to Maracana stadium. It looked so much more massive in the day time. While we didn’t get a full tour one really interesting cultural tidbit is this: like we have the places, such as the NBA store in NYC, where you could compare your hand size to the likes of Shaq or MJ, here they have a place on the floor where you can compare your shoe size to that of Ronaldo or Kaka. It was really interesting to see.
        From the stadium we made two brief stops. The first was at the street where Carnaval takes place. Interestingly, it is such a significant cultural event that the bleachers for it are permanent. You can drive down the street thinking there will be some field or something around you, but realistically it is seating for Carnaval. The second was a church. I don’t know the name, and the reason is that when I asked our tour guide for al sit of what we saw, he gave me on in Portuguese. Quite helpful. It looked hideous from the outside, like a fake mountain made in the 1800s designed by an architect quickly losing his sense of vision. The inside, however, was huge. It fit 5,000 people, had gorgeous stained glass, and had really nice cross in the middle. They are starting to convert me. It was great.
        From the church we went to lunch at an all you can eat buffet where I had Sushi and some other goodies. Did you know (dun nun un dun nun un): Rio has the most Sushi restaurants per capita of any city in the world outside of Japan. At least that’s some SAS rumor, and though those tend to be drastically wrong, I’m going to believe this one. The tour concluded with a trip to the Sugar Loaf mountains. Another great view of the city, and a really tired Jordan.
We went back to the hotel, used internet for a little, napped for a little, used the sauna for a little, and went out to dinner. A great day, and another great day at the beach was going to follow.
        Well that day at the beach was stopped by friend rain. Jordan went to one of the world’s most famous beach towns, and never once stepped foot on a beach. Explainable? Easy. Day 1 we got in a late and had to scrounge around making plans, eating and going to a Soccer game. Day 2 we toured the city. Day 3, it rained yo. So, we went to the beach anyway, but before even stepping foot on the sand, we gave up and walked into a nearby hotel. Turns out we had some friends staying there, so we joined up with them, did some shopping (well, that involves buying stuff so I guess we did some looking), had lunch (I had the best fries ever) and had to go back to our hotel to check out.
        Flight home was fine, got back around 7, was safe, went out to some bar. They were having a country concert. In Portuguese. Talk about awesome. Stayed there for a while and went to bed. Tired, voiceless, and still very white I went to bed a very happy man. That tends to be a common theme when you’re on SAS. It also tends to be one when you have family and friends like I do (whoever doesn’t thank me for than closing, it means you don’t read this—this is your final test).

GOALLLL

Hi there, Face here,
I think I may have used that opening line once, but I liked it so I’ll use it again. Plus it will be a test to see if anyone actually reads this Pulitzer Prize winner. So day 2, off to Rio.
      Got up at 8:30, got some breakfast, and headed to the airport to catch a noon flight. Got a milkshake, learned to play Sudoku (and got pretty freaking good), and caught a cab to the hotel; besides that the day until 2:30 was pretty uneventful. From 2:30 to four we got situated, went to an ATM, and really didn’t do much. 4 o’clock the fun starts. We get tickets to that nights soccer game—tickets were expensive, but seeing Brazilian soccer in the world’s largest stadium is priceless. Or so we thought. As we strolled around we went into a tourist agency to inquire about a day tour for the next day; there prices seemed reasonable so we asked them about the soccer game and they told us they could give it to us for $40 dollars less. They told us that we could get our money back from the other place, we just had to threaten to call the cops. So, I strolled back to my hotel, demanded that they lower the price, and after a while, they agreed to drop the price by $30 and upgrade us to a better section. GOOOOOAL. We went to a beach front shack for a quick dinner, at 7 met up with our friends to go to the game.
          The game was seriously one of the coolest things I have ever been to. It was at Maracana Stadium. The stadium was, for a long time, the biggest in the world with a record crowd that eclipsed 200,000. Now, in an effort to make it look nicer and less like it was built in the 50’s (which it was) they are reducing capacity by half, and when construction is done it will hold just 80,000 (it’s going from two Big Houses to one Camp Randall—sounds like a pretty amazing trade off to me). There were about 15,000 at the game because it wasn’t of that much importance. If, however, you were to judge by how loud it was, you would probably assume there were 100,000 people squeezed into Camp Randall for a game against Michigan in which the winner goes to the Rose Bowl. AND Wisco won.
       The game began with us quietly sitting in our own section; it ended with me in the middle of the cheering section, think student section, shirt off leading cheers in a language I don’t know. I remained up top in the expensive seats (higher up=more expensive in Brazil because you avoid stampedes), but got really into it. Like, more into it than I get at Maccabiah. Only one of my friends joined me, the others were afraid a riot may break out, but none did and it was well worth it. I did not do much today, but what I did will probably go down as my greatest memory of SAS. Andalay!!

At Least the Rain Drops Weren't Gun Shots or Jail Locks, Oh What a Good World It Is

Greetings fellow earthlings,
    BRASIL! Brazil: One of the four growing tigers (China, India, and Russia). The world’s fifth most populous country. The world’s greatest soccer players and the most beautiful women. Home of Havaianas, Copacabana and Ronaldinyo. But, you can read all that in a book—what’s it really like? Is it dangerous like in the film City of God, or is it and up-and-coming country set to host the Olympics and the World Cup? This is the final rendition of Jordan Went to Sea Sea Sea, so, let’s find out.
   The day was Wednesday April 21st 2010. It was a sunny day in Salvador, Brazil. Well, that didn’t last very long but we’ll get there. Let’s start at the top. I was kind of nervous getting off the ship—I have been safe this whole trip; on the one hand law of averages says something is bound to happen, on the other so does the trend that all other laws are not enforced.  I strapped on my money belt, joined up with Tahlor, Pierce and Griffin and headed into town.
   Salvador is situated on a hill with the historic district, referred to as Cidade Alta, on top and the bay area, Cidade Baixa, down by the water. Our boat was in the lower area and to get up to the old city, a world heritage site, we had to find the elevator. No one told us that even in the day 2 blocks away from the elevator was a pretty unsafe area. So, we walked into this unsafe area, saw run down houses, scores of homeless people, and general disarray. Luckily, we got out unscathed, and eventually found the Lacerda Elevator. The elevator cost 15 cents, and with no bills lower than a 20 getting up proved to be more difficult than expected.
TO get smaller bills we walked over to the adjacent Mercado Modelo; a cute little market that had many crafts and souvenirs. Someone bought a little gismo or gadget as we all used the change to pay the fee and enter the elevator. After being elevated we took a left and walked into the heart of town. There are two large square connected by the Salvador Cathedral which are filled with street peddlers and vendors. We walked around a bit with our first stop being the San Francisco Church. A beautiful piece of baroque architecture, it started a trend of flat front buildings, where the exaggerated art and architecture was truly on the inside.
We continued down one of the streets, went into a craft shop or two, and noticed that it was about to rain. Hoping to make the best of our time we figured we’d eat while it rained and then continue on with our day. So we ate, and, lo and behold, it stopped raining. We continued walking but saw that it was about to rain again so we walked into a market and, lo and behold, after 15m inutes it stopped raining. So we continued on to the famous area of Salvador with all the colorful houses (ala Cape Town), and what we saw next changed my life. Well, I may be exaggerating but it was awesome.
     Remember the strange dude I told you about who sat next to us at the restaurant? You know, the one with the crazy braided Brazil hair, the flamboyant Brazil outfit, and the girl friend who was barely wearing any clothing? WHAT?! I forgot to tell you. O well, now there’s not much to tell I guess. So, turns out he’s not some crazy, but actually a famous Brazilian dancer. AND he is Salvador filming Brazil’s commercial for the world cup. As we arrived they started filming again (after their brief lunch break) and it was awesome. Hot Brazilian women dancers, men doing awesome stunts, really cool, can’t wait to see it on TV. But wait! There’s more! At one point they brought out all the flags of the teams who have made it to the world cup; seeing that we were there, they asked us to hold the flag, and a group of us got to dance with them while waving the American flag. Hopefully that part makes the commercial and I’ll be world famous. Catch me on the TV any given Sunday, win a Super Bowl and ride off in my Hyundai.
   With not much to see in the surprisingly small Upper part of town we headed to the elevator and were planning on taking a cab to the Bay Area. However, once we got out of the elevator it started pouring again. SO, this time not caring about our time, just not wanting to get wet, we chilled in a little ATM machine, 3 of us, and waited 15 minutes for the heavy rain to subside. Then, we took that cab.
Once we got to the new part of town we went into the lighthouse, walked around that museum for a bit and continued on to wander town. But then we saw it. Glimmering in the sun light that suddenly began to peak through those dreary clouds. SUBWAY. How could we not. I don’t want to remember how awful the Tuna was, so I will not mention that. Instead I will note that I had subway in Hawaii, China (3 or 4 times), India, and Brazil. China was the best one, but America still wins. So we ate quickly and continued our aimless walk.
   Unfortunately, two blocks in it started to pour again. At this point you may be wondering, did you guys contemplate buying a poncho, umbrella, or any form of protection? The answer is no. The reasoning is simple. Well, I assume it’s simple, but I have no clue what we were thinking so I couldn’t tell you. Anyways, after about 10 minutes we left our overhang and walked to a little statue of Jesus on a hill. I’m just saying, Jesus gets some awesome views in this country. I guess it’s not a rough life being 2 billion peoples Messiah.
   At this point we were gross, so we went back to the ship, showered, got dressed, and headed out to a steak dinner. Keeping kosher comes in handy when all your friends get a $140 bill. Score one for the good guys. Overall it was an amazing day, though Salvador was an unremarkable city. It felt dangerous (I heard at least 40 stories of people being robbed), dirty and not very large. But, we saw all the hot spots, got s’more gifts, ate Subway, and had a heck of a day. The last port was off to a great start. 

Complexity in simplicity

   Wednesday came way too soon and it was our final day in Ghana. I went to breakfast and at 8am took the shuttle into Accra. I took the same shuttle the day before but I had Andrew and Lizzy Finn (two lil staff kids) to entertain me—this time I was just exhausted. We got in by 9, walked around the Kofi Citizen Center (aka the purple hotel where the shuttle dropped us off) and finally met up the Dada and Isa around 10! Awesome. The day started with a trip back to the market—people needed stamps to send postcards home (don’t get excited, I’m not talking about myself, sorry).
    We walked around the market for a bit, and, much to our fight, Dada and Isa cameo ut with even more gifts for us. This time they just threw stuff in our bags. We fought but they claimed “the orders have come from the top.” I still don’t know what that means.  We walked around the market and then around Accra for a while. Some in our group waned CD’s so we stopped for that, others wanted to go to the beach but unfortunately we didn’t have time. I just wanted to chill with the guys because they are seriously amazing.
    We went to lunch by 12:30 but chilled for so long we didn’t leave until 2. We walked around for a bit more and then caught the shuttle back to Tema. Right before getting on the shuttle I saw a man selling a shirt I liked—I didn’t have any money left so I took the grateful red shirt off my back and made a trade—I think I can find a Wisconsin basketball shirt more easily than a Ghana one hahah. I thought about exaggerating this day, making it sound more exciting than my blog currently does, but, honestly, its simplicity is what made the day so special.
    These two guys just chilled with us and we became legitimate friends. We didn’t have a plan, we didn’t do much, but we hung out. We were the first Americans they had ever hung out with and they our first Ghanaians. Tom Friedman claims the world is flat, but I beg to differ. The world is very round and the only way to truly realize that is to open up both your arms and fully embrace it. Dada and Isa taught me that from the very first moment that we met.
Until next time, see ya!

Joba saves the day

   On day number 3 Isaac and I wanted to do Habitat for Humanity. Though SAS offered trips we wanted to try and do it on our own. Though my SAS trip the day before had been great, often SAS trips aren’t so wonderful so we did it indi. Well, kind of. First 4 other people came, though I didn’t know any of them before they were all great. Next, we ended up at the same sight as the SAS trip. I had emailed Habitat separately and organized it but apparently thy only have one sight in the area. Luckily, SAS got this one right and we worked hard and had a great day.
   We got there noon (Kibi was further away then we had anticipated) and immediately got to work. SAS had been there for a bit already and they were all already exhausted (Ghana is pretty close to the equator) so we were their Joba (if you couldn’t tell by my unyielding baseball references it kills me that I can’t watch Yankee games—starting Sunday these will switch to Suns references as I’ll miss the entire series vs. the Blazers).
   We worked for a bit and then had a nice rice lunch (as I did everyday) and were supposed to get back to work. I, however, had a revelation: I am much better at having fun than at doing manual labor. So, for a while, I just played ball with some of the local boys, taught them to throw a baseball and realized that my camera was gone. Wait, no, but seriously. I mean I found it 30 seconds later, one of the kids had taken it and ran off to take pictures, but I got a lil nervous na-mean?
   Raymond, the guy who helped organize the trip with me, helped me find the camera and along the way was telling me about their struggles. He said that honestly it is nice to have people building homes but their problems are much bigger than that. Gold has been discovered on a hill by where they live and miners have come in and destroyed their landscape. He took me and my friend Kareem, through bushes and over streams, to the lake that he said was at the heart of their village. It was dirt brown—hands down the grossest thing I have ever seen. He said in the past that had been their drinking water, it had been the water they used to bathe, and now? Nothing. They couldn’t use any of it. The miners come in, destroy the land, get their gold and leave the place a mess. And, when he tried to complain to authorities, they threatened his life and forced him to move. The affects of pollution are not necessarily as prevalent throughout the developed, affluent world, but small changes can destroy communities in the developing world. Unless we start to actually play close attention and stop climate change and pollution the affects could be awful.
   Well, on that happy note, I continued building for a bit. I shoveled dirt and wheel barreled it over to what was going to be the foundation of the house. Once I got tired I returned to my new friends and played somemore. Then it came time to leave they asked for gifts, but unfortunately I didn’t have anything with me. So, I gave them my sun glasses, sun screen, and hand sanitizer. They didn’;t know what the later two were, but they were still thrilled. They kept shouting “cold on my skin” and smiling. Hey, whatever floats their boat.
A few minutes later we got back in our cab and headed back to the ship. Once we got back to Tema and after a brief dispute over the price (we had agreed to pay for gas, but they wanted us to throw in an extra 40 for the cost it would take them to drive home, that wasn’t part of our deal) we got dinner on the ship and called it a night. A tiring, emotional, draining, awesome day. Good job Joba.

The Ghanain Migrash

    Once I decided not to go with Tahlor and Pierce the first day I kind of lost all plans for the second day as well so on Sunday morning I saw Isaac and we agreed we’d do whatever together. Whatever turned into an SAS trip to a traditional drumming circle. I got a ticket from my friend Chris (he decided not to go) while Isaac and Zach (who also came with us) got the benefit of extra spots opening up. While I was originally disappointed that I couldn’t go out with Dada and Isa, it turned into a great day.
    We sat down, got a brief tour, and saw outside some women making cloth. It was actually awesome. They had a plain white sheet, had stencil like devices that they would stick in wax and then place on the sheet and then, once the wax hardened, they would die the sheet and, upon peeling off the wax, have an awesome design. We watched the women doing this for a little bit and then our drum circle began.
Well, kind off. In the beginning it was actually learning a dance. I think that they expected this to be a quick intro but, due to lack of skill on our part, it ended up taking a while. A long while. It reminded me of my first day at Nyack CIT summer trying to learn all those dances. The steps seemed so simple, but put them together and, man, it was tough.
    After practicing for about an hour and a half, and dripping through a shirt and a half, they gave us a “5 minute water break.” However, once they saw that none of us could move the program shifted slightly and they brought us fruit (little bananas, coconuts and mango (I don’t think I’ve ever had one before)). After the fruit, still physically unable to move our legs, they brought out the drums and taught us how to play. Interestingly they actually use drum sticks on bongos and it makes a cool sound. Some people chimed in with cow bell, and I added my part by shaking some morocco like instrument.
    The music went on for a while and once it was done we had lunch and preformed our dance. We had split into 2 groups and unfortunately for me, the other group was awesome. Ours, well, it wasn’t. They had to stop us midway. It was still fun. As was the final dance they taught us before giving us a performance of their own.
    The trip ended later than expected but it was more than ok because we were having a blast. On the way back we were making good time, until our bus backed into a truck while maneuvering its way through the industrial port. From there, were we could see the ship, it took an extra 30 minutes. Whatever it was kind of funny and no one was hurt. On the ship we showered, had dinner, and took the 8pm shuttle to Accra. We went to some outdoor bar, got interviewed by a Nigerian news station—no, I am not kidding and yes, I did claim I was from South Africa visiting Ghana for a dance recital, and took the 11pm shuttle home. Well, just like South Africa Ghana was pitching a perfect game through 2, but unlike CC and SA Ghana didn’t give it up. Keep reading to learn more about how Ghana is like David Wells.

Dada and Isa

Asalam alekem:
    I remember a conversation before I left Semester at Sea in which I told somebody that the country I was most excited to experience was Ghana. I expected that everywhere else I would see would be relatively unoriginal and Ghana would be unlike anything I had ever seen. Well I was wrong, dreadfully in wrong, in assuming that the other countries would be banal, but I was right in predicting Ghana to be the most unique.
    Before arriving in Ghana there had been 2 real moments that I could point two as truly transformative. The first was my last day in Japan. I learned the beauty of walking aimlessly through a foreign town; devoting a day to stop and use all of my senses, to explore the unexplored, and to exit the touristy bubble. The second was my last day in Mauritius. Though I had interacted with people before it was at that SOS village that I realized how moving their stories can be and how much more special it is seeing the country through their eyes.
As I write this, just a day after I left, I’m not sure if I will look back at Ghana, in its entirety, as the third big moment on my trip, but I do know that I will never forget the people that I have met and the kindness I have experienced.
   Accra is a city of 2 million people, but one would only know that from reading a book. The tallest building could not have been more than 2 or 3 stories, the big stadium, though it had a fairly large capacity, looked like one built for a Texas high school, and the entire city seemed like a oversized, congested village. Women were carrying heavy object on their heads, men were in better shape than anyplace I had ever been (presumably because of the extensive manual labor), and, on a very shallow level, it was the same as the Africa you read in the books. Well, rather than staying in the shallow end, why don’t we dive in deeper.
   On the first day, Sunday, we arrived around 9am. Upon disembarking from the ship it was evident we were in a industrial port not designed for passenger ships. SAS provided (thanks to a $10 fee they charged everyone) a 5 minute shuttle through the industrial port to a nearby gas station in the city of Tema, or an hour long shuttle to the heart of Accra. Unfortunately, the shuttle to Tema was a small van and constantly filled up quickly, making it difficult to meet the people who were going to take us around. Luckily, someone in our group happened to make conversation with a cop who took us so that we didn’t have to wait for the shuttle.
   Wait, what’s that? Who were we supposed to meet? Great question! My friend Jill’s father works with a man named Solomon who is originally from Ghana. Solomon called up his cousin, Ishmael (who goes by his nickname, Isa), who offered to take us around. So, I joined a group of Jill, my friend Chloe, Sarah and Tolin and we, excitedly but frankly nervously as well, met up with Isa. As we got out of the car Isa was with his other cousin, Dada (Dada means father and is the name children often go by when they are a Jr./ share the same name as their father). We hoped into a shared cab an went into Accra.
   The ride was hot, sweaty and crowded and I began regretting my decision not to just go to the beach with some friends. Finally, when we got to the Accra mall I was able to stretch my limbs. We stopped by the local supermarket, got some water, chocolate, and juice and headed into town.
   Our first stop was the Osu Children’s village. Unfortunately when we got there most the children were still in church and unable to come hang out. We stayed there only for a brief period and then headed to lunch.
   For lunch we went to a little restaurant near Isa’s house. For rice, fries, and salad it cost 1 Cedi (75 cents). Not the greatest food I have ever eaten, at all, but it does help to show how it is even possible for 48% of the world to live on less than $2 a day (I am, by no means, saying this makes it easy or desirable, merely more comprehendible). From lunch Isa took us to his house to introduce us to his family.
   Isa lived in an area called Nima. His house consisted of 4 metal walls and a roof. Inside there was a mattress on the floor, a 2 person couch, a television, laptop, mini fridge and DVD player. He had his limited clothing hang above his mattress. The community shared a few communal toilets and showering consisted of filling up a bucket by the well and dumping it on yourself. Even so, he quickly invited all of us to sleep over, shower and completely make ourselves feel at home. While I didn’t take him up on his first two offers (for a variety of reasons), he made it impossible not to feel at home. How amazing of a person he and Dada were was becoming readily apparent.
  From his home we did a quick walking tour. We saw his village, saw parliament, the Supreme Court, the monument to the first president Kwame Nkruma and a variety of other attractions. The tour concluded at Jamestown. I had read about Jamestown and was excited to see it. The books said it was an attraction not frequented by tourists but those who go often claim it to be their most memorable experience in Ghana. Sounds about right. Jamestown is an old fishing village. The beaches are lined with shacks and the level of poverty is certainly high. Yet, as the kids frolic through the sand or jump into the water the level of happiness seems to be as high as possible. A local resident, who claimed to be friends with Dada, though Dada swears he had never met him before, showed us around. It truly was the place where the serenity of the ocean felt the hard reality of poverty. The two seemed to learn from each other. The impoverished people were given hope by the water, but the polluted water was jaded by a struggling people. Memorable seems to be the only fitting adjective.
  From Jamestown we went to the Kaneshie Market. This market is the second biggest (to Makola) in Accra. Isa’s family owns a shop there so we were all excited to purchase goods from him and try and pay him back for showing us around all day. He had taken the day off, refused to allow us to pay, and truly welcomed us into his home. Once we got to his shop he told us to put our bags down and said we’d come back to his shop later but that we should walk around the rest of the market first.
   After spending a couple of hours bargaining we saw the end of the market: the Drums. There, we played drums with some of the locals, danced, and sang. We met men like Baby Rasta and Ishmael who were so happy to just meet Americans. It was starting to get dark, so we continued back to their shop hoping to spend a few more Cedis and support Dada and Isa. Well, we never got the chance because they refused to let us pay. They gave us each a gift and said they just wanted us to remember them. Their kindness was unbelievable.
   It was already 7 and we wanted to catch the last shuttle at 11pm back to Tema so we went back to their place, some people showered, and headed to dinner. For dinner we had heard of a place called Frankie’s so we took them there. It was American and great and a nice break from being cultured—my pallet got to enjoy immaturity as I delved into a cheese pizza. The night ended with some ice cream at Frankie’s outside parlor downstairs and a walk to the shuttle. The day was so incredibly amazing (plus more awesome adjectives) that I kind of wished I was hanging out with them some more.

Stay tuned folks!

Table Topping is Dangerous...

       Gee Wiz! By Golly, I forgot my synopsis of South Africa. Well, heres it is yall. South Africa is a rose garden enclosed by barbed wire. The beauty is apparent and the awesomeness is evident but there is a leap that must be made for its true splendor to be unveiled. Racism has penetrated the essence of the society and racial lines still divide society. Crime is everywhere, making even the greatest of times dampened by fear. Though South Africa was my favorite country thus far, its draw backs are undeniable. I saw more civilians carrying guns in my few days here than I had previously seen in my entire life. Townships (which will be explained later) reinforce several of these notions, and an internal Us-Them mentality mars the society. The landscape is beautiful, the culture is so rich, the down town is awesome and the general life is wonderful, but the drawbacks put an asterisk on even the greatest of times.
      So, back to the happy stuff. Where was I? Ah, yes, Thursday morning. 7 am, I wake up, got to breakfast and meet Chloe (one of my closest friends) to spend the day with her and the people she was traveling with. Over breakfast we decide we will climb Table Mountain and decide from there. So off we go to Table Mountain. TM is a staple of Cape Town. The city lies in front of the massive, flat mountain that offers gorgeous views of the city and surrounding miles. As we began to climb some of the group struggled, as it is a challenging hike, while others wanted to move more quickly. So Chris, Kristen, Olivia, and Katie stayed back as Ethan Rob and I climbed more rapidly. Man this hike was tough. About half way Rob fell back and joined up with the other group. Ethan and I made it up in just over an hour (1 11 to be exact) while the other group took just under 2.5 hours. By the time they got up we had already eaten and were about to go down, but we waited with them and had some time to soak up the sun. Words cannot describe how amazing this hike was. Think Massada but with a better view; though the top had little history, the nature and landscape that surround it is truly second to none.
      We loved it so much that Ethan and I refused to join the other group on the cable car down and instead hiked it ourselves. It took a while and really hurt our knees, but it was well worth it. When we reached the bottom we got in a cab and went to the District 6 museum. We got there just before close, but had enough time to see most of it. District 6 was the last area to be cleansed by the apartheid government. People had been living there for generations and were kicked out simply because they were black. Seeing their faces and hearing their anecdotes made the experience pretty chilling.
      When we got kicked out of the museum we headed to the Castle of Good Hope (oldest building in Cape Town) but we just missed it’s closing time. Still the outside was pretty remarkable architecture. Rather than waiting for a real cab, we hoped in a share cab and, a half hour later, ended up nowhere near our ship. We laughed it off, found the soccer stadium that was built for the world cup, and toured a bit. We then went to Toys-r-us before getting a real ride back to the glorious MV Explorer.
     I got back around 6 and that is when the real fun began. I went with a couple of friends (3 of whom attend the elite University of Wisconsin) to a Rugby match. Though no big 14 games were being played (e.g. no MLB games) we went to the local club (e.g. AA baseball) and watched there. There were no seating areas so we stood right on top of the field. There were about 2,000 people surrounding the field and it was pretty intense. They seriously kill each other. Way too tough for my fragile body, but seriously an awesome sport. Chalk it up boys, two days, two amazing experiences!

Slaves and such

        Move over Vietnam, South Africa stands alone as Jordan’s favorite country. I was going to start by giving you a brief synopsis of my deep, inspirational, and highly insightful comments about Cape Town, but I have decided instead to preempt such jargon with a brief recap of life on the ship from Mauritius to Cape Town.
        Having been in Mauritius for only one night it felt as though we were on the ship for two weeks (good preparation for the trek home from Brazil). After Mauritius I didn’t have too much work so I finished season 4 of How I Met Your Mother. BSE—Best Show Ever. On Sunday was Africa day, so we did not have class and had a number of optional lectures and workshops that we could attend. I went to a few. First I went to The Politics of Invictus where we discussed the true story behind the film and its ramifications. Next I went to an Aid Quilt workshop where we each were given a story and had to make a picture/ painting/ collage of our feelings. A picture of mine is already on facebook if you would like to see. After lunch I went to one about the South African economy and the World Cup. They were all good, but the best lecture had come the night before when the interport lecturer taught us the rules of Rugby and Cricket; I’m an expert now.
On Monday night was the first Seder. Rob, one of the LLC’s, led it. It was quite interesting—very reformed but I think most people enjoyed it which is great. For the second seder a group of 15 of us led it together. We sung all the songs, did most the readings, and had a much more traditional seder. It was great but I certainly missed home (a lot).
The next morning we arrived in Cape Town early and were briefed by Linda Biel. Linda’s daughter, Amy, had been a volunteer who was killed in South Africa during the weaning years of apartheid. Though she had arrived in South Africa to fight for the black cause, her murderers assumed all white people to be the enemy. Now her murderers help run the Amy Biel foundation; an organization that fosters open dialogue and coexistence. An assume story.
       Upon debarking from the ship (it was really quick immigration, no face to face or anything) I headed off on my FDP. The port we were at was gorgeous, by far the nicest we’ve been at, but more about that later. I was with my Professor, Crissman, for a walking tour of some of the religious sites of Cape Town.  The first stop was in Bo-Kaap. Bo-Kaap is the Muslim area of Cape Town known for its very colorful houses (they are so happy =-)). We went to a mosque known as the Auwal Masjid (the first mosque). The Muslims in Cape Town are pretty liberal and thus women were allowed in fully with men for a nice debriefing about the buildings history. One of the most interesting parts was when the man teaching us said “You cannot have interfaith dialogue when you simply drink tea together. You need to discuss the hard issues.” He said he has told multiple rabbis that he thinks Israel is an apartheid state and they have told him they think Palestinians are terrorists and they discuss it—such discussions are rare and, according to him, this is why progress towards peace is slow.
      From the mosque we continued to the synagogues of Cape Town but made two stops along the way. First we saw the building where they heard cases over a persons race. They have left two benches outside, a whites only and a non-whites bench, to show what it was like. Sometimes, when they were unsure of a person’s race, they would put a pencil atop the persons head and see how long it would take to fall (looks like Imus has some company in the morning). Next we saw a statue honoring Cecil John Rhodes (the guy who made the Rhodes Scholar program, North Rhodesia, and even South Rhodesia) in the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens. To some Rhodes was a hero (e.g. to people who don’t know how racist he was), to some he was the devil (e.g. to the people he made live like pigs). I did, however, learn of his interesting dream for peace. His goal was for America and Britain to take over the world (literally colonize the whole thing) and then make peace. Though that idea went terribly wrong and England took countries over for the absolute wrong reason, it seems that many still have a similar goal (though they are hesitant to say it).
     Then we arrived at the synagogue. Though it was closed because it was Chag the outside was gorgeous. Actually, there were 2 synagogues: to the left a very traditional looking one, to the right a gorgeous colonial building that resembles a public library more than a place of prayer. South Africa has many Jews (our guide said it has dropped from 120,000 at its peak to about 80,000 nowadays. Either way they have always had an enormous influence.
      From there we were going to continue to the Slave Lodge but, silly Semester at Sea, never planned a time for lunch on this day tour. So, they sent us to Long St., a main st. in Cape Town to fend food for ourselves—I got water and waited until later to eat. After this brief interruption we continued on towards the Slave Lodge. What a museum. This museum detailed the slave trade in South Africa and really the whole movement throughout Africa. It got me thinking; how awful is it that we even have the word slave in our vocabulary. Someone, at one point, had the evil thought to create a word for a man who is forced into labor without any reciprocity. Why must such a word, such a diseased concept, even exist? Fittingly, the museum ends by leading the visitor into a gallery honoring Madiba (Nelson Mandella). The way man is freed from such tyranny is by the leadership and devotion of such wise men. The awesome exhibit ended with a picture of him and Francois shaking hands; the real invictus.
     Our tour ended at St. George’s Cathedral. Though erected in the early 1900’s this cathedral has the feel of typical Renascence architecture.  We got to walk all around the Cathderal, through the side aisles and basilica, up to the aps. It really was a beautiful church and it was cool to stand where Desmond Tutu stood demanding an end to apartheid. Luckily most of his controversial/ anti-Semitic comments were stated elsewhere.
     The tour was complete so we hailed a cab and headed across Cape Town to Sea Point (one of the more expensive areas). I had been told by one of the Chabad Rabbi’s (actually Rebbi Deren’s nephew, named Rabbi Deren) that Checker’s had a good Passover section. Talk about the grossest understatement of my life. It put Wesley Kosher to shame. I ended up spending a lot; I bought 3 boxes of Matzo (all are gone and I still have a day left), Cream Cheese (finished), Salami (finished), Matza Farfel (plenty left), some snacks (obviously finished) and some soup and potatoes mix that I’ll eat tonight. It was a very successful journey. I got back to the ship, showered and got dressed and headed out with Tahlor to dinner. Isaac, Zach (the other Kosher guy on the ship) and some girls joined us for this wonderful evening. 
We went to Avaron’s; Cape Town’s only kosher for pesach restaurant. I got a steak and fires and it was incredible.  Think 2nd Avenue Deli on steroids. We then went back to Long St. for the night and it was an awesome town. People were out in the street, there was loud music blasting everywhere, and day one of South Africa was an absolute success.

Fish guts and nude butts

Greeting earthlings,
Last we spoke I was rushing through the happenings of Cochin, India in a last minute effort to complete my India blogs before arriving in Africa. Well, as usual, I succeeded. Thanks to hard work and determination I conquered that task and captured all of my memories into one brief blog. Damn it feels good to be a gangsta.
Since then I got back on the ship and sailed down approximately 40 degrees of latitude to a small island named Mauritius.
What’s that? You are wondering what else I did in between? Well funny you should ask, because I was just thinking to myself “Yo Jordan, you are awesome” and then I was thinking “you should probably write more about life on the ship.”
We got back onboard on March 16th around 6pm. I passed out that night by 9, that’s how tired countries make me. The next day I had my Sacred Places midterm. Being that I myself am pretty sacred, I think I nailed it. The next day I had a bye (only one class) but on the 19th, a Friday, I had a paper due for my History of the Modern World class. It was on a book called Godaan (the Gift of a Cow). Decent book, tough prompt, results pending. Froday night we started planning the seders and had a good shabbos. Then, low and behold, came the twentieth. The 20th is a sacred day because it is the day that the MV explorer passed the equator (Nope, that is not true, we passed it on the 19th, but because of a conflict in scheduling it was easier to celebrate the accomplishment a day later). The day is called Neptune day. On this holy day the crew wakes us  up at 7am by banging pots and pans in the hallways. We proceed to the top deck pool area for a nice ceremony in which Mark White (the Academic Dean), Loren Crabtree (the executive dean), and Cindy (Dean of students), get dressed up in some interesting garb and recite some words that I didn’t really listen to. After they were through some people shaved their heads (not I, my lovely Jew fro is flowing like Craig David). Others, obviously me, got fish guts poured on them, jumped in the pool to clean it off, and then kissed a fish to replace the hair cut. I didn’t get good pictures so I did it a second time too. Let’s just say I may have scarred that fish with my second kiss (it’s lucky that it didn’t have to be alive to experience it). The rest of the day was full of relaxation and studying.  Sunday the 21st came and I had my final Mid-Term, this one in the core course, Global Studies. It was tough but fine. On Monday I chilled, went to class, and did some final preparations for that lovely country. Mauritius.
8am the beeping of my alarm sounded. I rubbed by eyes, stretched my arms, and smelled the great smells of Africa. Weirdly it smelt exactly like my room, hmm idk. After eating some breakfast and hearing some diplomat, we got off the ship by 9 and headed to Grand Bay. In the cab ride over, there was mucho drama. First the company that we had rented a catamaran from said their boat was broken and the replacement could fit only 11 not 12, then  they said the coast guard wasn’t letting boats out, then I was just in pain because I cut my foot open (as usual) while walking to the cab. Luckily, by the time we made it to our Villa everything worked itself out.
The weather cleared up and they agreed to take us out on their more expensive boat for a sunset cruise. Since it was only like 11 we had some time to play on the beach. We got some Pizza for lunch (score!) and relaxed. We played catch, went on a banana boat, turned a boat into our personal diving board, may or may not have skinny dipped (the world will never know). Sooner than we expected it was already 5 and we were ready for our catamaran. We went out for a couple of hours, had some good dinner, drank a few beers, and saw the gorgeous sunset over a mountain that I swear was Pride Rock (I will bet a lot of money that pride rock was inspired by this mountain). At one point we, again jumped into the water and the temp at this point was absolutely perfect. As the cruise concluded we went back to our Villa and passed out. BUT not before we went into town and got Pizza again.
The next morning we woke up by 8 (Tahlor woke me up at 6 because he couldn’t sleep and was bored) and we headed back to the beach. Mauritius has a lot of French influence (in addition to Indian) so we had good Crepes for breakfast (obviously, sup G, they were too cultured for me so I just had waffles and cereal). We laid out on the beach for another hour or so and then headed back to Port Louis.
The city of Port Louis was awesome. It reminded me a lot of the Baltimore Inner Harbor (less seagulls, more awesomeness). We got lunch there and walked around the mall area but at 3 Tahlor and Pierce had dock time (had to be on ship early b/c they got in trouble for being late) and so I was alone.
Being alone I decided to walk into some dark alley. I got beaten up, no big deal. Is what I would have said if it were true, but it’s not so I won’t. I actually decided to hop on an SAS trip to the SOS Children’s Village of Beau Basin. SOS (save our souls) has set up over 400 Children’s villages around the world. This one is for children who have been taken from their parents by the gov.t because of abuse. We heard some of their terrible stories, but were asked not to pry them for more. The village is amazing; 100 kids live there in houses of 8 with one adoptive mother. We played ball with them; they taught me their version of volleyball, I taught them a game called TAPs. At one point they took may camera and snapped some awesome pictures. They were so fun and so beautiful, it was great to get to smile with them and see what its like when you give a child a chance to thrive. I loved it.
We got to stay there till 6:30 (onship time was 6 but b/c of an accident it took us an hour to get there, so they let us stay out late) and when we got back on we had breakfast for dinner (wow!). Since then I’ve been sleeping, watching movies, and going to class. Now that you know all about my life, tell me about yours. Jdsoffer@semesteratsea.net EMAIL ME!!!!
Until next time, stay classy San Diego.

Cricket and Synagogue

Some of you may be wondering, why has Jordan waited so long to continue documenting his voyages from India. Well, as strange as this may sound, school has started to get busy. It’s Midterms time and I don’t have too much time to waste on any of you (except my mommy of course). I know yall missed me. Sometimes I miss me too. So where was I? Oh right, I slept more sitting on a chair than lying. We start driving back to Delhi to catch our flight. We got to Delhi by 11 and went straight to the Akshardham.
The Akshardham is a huge temple that looks like it could have been built in the 16c. The difference is that it was built in 2000. They spent hundreds of millions of dollars constructing it and truly did an amazing job. It is not, for some reason or another, not become a huge tourist attraction, but it is, according to the Guinness book of world records, the largest Hindu temple in the world. Supposedly there is an amazing boat ride around the complex, unfortunately our fake tour guide failed to explain that to us. No cameras are allowed in so I couldn’t snap any photo’s, but I’d recommend looking it up online—it’s a heck of a sight.
From there the tour guide took us to Humayun’s Tomb. We weren’t supposed to go to this sight, but I asked because I had seen so many pictures and it looked so cool. It didn’t let me down, and it was probably my fav. sight in India. The first Mugul emperor, Barbar, is buried in a modest structure on the grounds and his son, Humayun, is buried in a massive building. It is red sand stone and incorporates many of the same features of the Taj. The inside is much more impressive than the taj, and the outside is not as clean/ perfect so it really gives you a sense of how old it is. The entire complex is massive and is filled with countless tombs for anyone from Humayun’s servants to his wives to the architects and engineers who built his tomb.
We will fast forward through lunch and a quick trip to the market because it was relatively uneventful. I bring you now to the airport as we prepare to fly from Delhi to Hyderabad to stay at my friend Neha’s grandmother. We get to the airport 6 hours before our flight because of confusion with the tour company. The airport is gorgeous so this is no big deal. We shop, eat pizza hut, load pictures and have a merry time. 5 hours pass and it is time to board the flight. We all meet by the gate. Wait, where are Cameron and Amira? Looks like the 2 of them are missing. “Final boarding for the Kingfisher flight to Hyderbad” sounds, still no sight of them. They call them over the loudspeaker, still no response. At this point we are nervous about there whereabouts; I think Pakistani ninjas have kidnapped them, but that doesn’t seem to be a common concern. Eventually, when the second call over the loudspeaker yields no response the airport security runs through the terminal searching frantically for them. They were out to dinner and had lost track of time. I kid you not. Not even a little. Seriously, I wish I was kidding, but I’m not. Eventually we all make it on to the flight (barely) and arrive in Hyderabad where we are greeted by Neha and her grandparents. It’s already 11 pm so we go to her apartment, get settled in her guest house, get a little henna tattoo and get ready for one of the greatest days of our lives.
We woke up and by 7 am were on our way. Our first stop was the Birla Mandir. Birla Mandir is a common name for a Hindu Temple and various ones can be found throughout India. This one was gorgeous marble, and is known as one of the prettiest ones in the whole country. Unfortunately, like at some other modern temples, cameras are not allowed. The temple is built into a mountain and has views of the entire city. We went into the central prayer hall and a priest greeted us and taught us some of their rituals. Though we didn’t fully participate it was interesting to observe Neha and her grandmother who often attend this temple.
After we were through we continued to a traditional Indian restaurants for Dosa’s. Even as I grew tired of Indian food this was on that I remained fond of. It is like a crepe’ with onions, potatoes and peas or whatever you really want (I just got onions). You dip it in some diff. hot sauces and enjoy. People say the Masala Dosa is the best kind, I just got the simple one and mine was better. Trust me, I’m a doctor.
From there we continued to the Bengle shop but stopped along the way to see a Buddha statue located in the middle of the water. Sprouting like the statue of liberty this statue symbolized the serenity and peace of mind that Buddhists develop. Though I was thoroughly enjoying my time at the bengle shop I explored a bit with the tour guide to kill some time. First we saw the charminar. Char means four and minar means minarets in Arabic. The charminar was built to pray for the end of the black plague and is right next to the Mecca Masjid, the largest mosque in Hyderabad.
Since I was traveling with a number of girls (I do not believe they deserve to be called women) the half hour of touring was not enough, and they still had plenty more bengles to buy. I got a somossa (not a mimosa) which is some food that was pretty good, yet still had 30 minutes to spare. Obviously, there was only one thing left to do: find some children and have them teach me to play cricket. So, I found two nice young kids, Age?  About 7 or 8 so I yelled to the cabby yo home smell ya later. They were adorable and, using my water bottle as a bat, broken bengles as bases, and some pebbles as the ball we played ball for a good half hour. Finally the girls were close to done and we were able finally get outta there.
From there we went to my friend Neha’s grandmothers (Nani-g) women’s college. Nani-g runs four charitable organizations but this is her fav. one. She donates $7,000 a month to this charity alone. Upon arrival we ate a quick meal, briefly toured the campus, and then, to our surprise, spoke to all of the students. There were 600 women aged 18-20. Talk about surrounded by water without a drop to drink. All of the girls are Indian former street kids or orphans who are now receiving a free JC education. We spoke to them about the value of education and the promise that it provides. She had a big sign made and it was ridiculously formal. It was really nice and beautiful. Not gonna lie, a little uncomfortable being one of two guys in the room of 600+ people, but I got over that…quickly.
We stayed at the college for a couple of hours and we didn’t leave until 5 or 6 pm. By that time I really only had two goals remaining: get my flag and get a cricket jersey. Well, once again the girls wanted to go shopping. Luckily, however, this time there was a nearby market that wasn’t so boring. As the girls shopped for their Indian clothing I got some cools crafts and my cricket jersey at a little market. Though I didn’t find a flag, later on that night Nani-g’s helper brought me a perfect one.
After dinner we were all pretty much exhausted so we just threw on some TV and passed out. A great day in Hyderabad had come to a close, and it was time to go to Cochin (Karala).
We got up at 4 and headed to the airport to catch our 7 am flight. It was nice because we got into Cochin by 10 and I was back at the ship by 11. As I was getting on my friend Danny was getting off and heading to “Jew Town.” Perfect. I through my stuff down and went with him and his friend Peyton. We started by going out to lunch and then headed to Jew town. Cochin was the center of Indian Jewry. Cochin Jews now make up 1% of Israel’s population and 7 (people not percentage) of Cochin’s. What’s left are a few street signs, one book store, one ridiculously overpriced Judaica store (Sarah’s) and a bunch of street vendors. The shul is still in existence but didn’t open until 3 so we went out and toured Cochin’s back alleys before coming back. The shul was small but beautiful. Cameras weren’t allowed so I was only able to snap some pictures on my camera. It was sphardic style; it had a balcony for women and the bimah in the center. It is now only a museum, but when they have a minyan (e.g. some high holidays/ Israelis bringing children for Bar-Mitzvah’s) they’ll reopen it. It was the perfect way to end India.
Well, we headed back to the ship and called it a country. And what a country it was. So unique yetso confused. Such poverty living aside such richness. Hindus and Muslims living peacefully side by side; Hindus and Muslims at each other’s throats. In India everything changes depending on the way you look at it. There are no truths, only vantage points.
Sorry if the end of this blog seems a bit rushed…midterms; you know how it is….PS-I’ll be in Mauritius in 7 hours…Peace out cub scouts

Taj Ball

4:45 came sooner than expected and low and behold I was on my way to Agra. For those of you who know me best (Mommy, Daddy, and Heath Ledger may he rest in peace) know that I had two things I really wanted to see this trip (no G, not those): A Japanese baseball game and the Taj Mahal. Unfortunately the baseball game was impossible because we went in the winter (I got over that pretty quickly), but luckily I got to see the Taj. It was as impressive as I imagined, but I digress.
On the way down we stopped at Fatehpur Sikri. Sikri, as I have decided to nickname it, was built by Akbar, my favorite Mugal leader. He was #3, Grandfather of Shah Jahan, son of Humayun…talk about a strong family. Akbar was not particularly religious man so his decision to have 3 wives from 3 different faiths did not come as surprising. Neither did his decision to move the capitol to Sikri (albeit for 16 years) to make it more central and welcoming. The design of the would be capitol has stayed intact mostly because it is in such an isolated location (about 60 km from the Taj). It has a huge mosque, a small church, and even a small Hindu temple. It is tough to describe exactly why these ruins stand apart from all of the other ones, but I think it was because their simple design made imagining Akbar’s lifestyle very possible. One could easily imagine him sitting on his throne watching the entirety of his city.
From Sikri we went to lunch, a feat I was beginning to dread. Seriously how many combinations  of spicy rice can a kid take. Funny side note, we ran into 4 different groups traveling independently (e.g. not  on an SAS trip) at the same restaurant. Talk about kick back (the tour companies get a percentage of our bill for taking us there).
I don’t want to write anything else about food because we then went to the Taj MaFRIKNhal. Kind of odd how it’s spelt that way, but whatever. It was awesome. Once you make your way past the scores of vendors offering you anything from weed to Ganesh you finally get to wait on the 45 minute line to get in. BUT once you get in you finally get to see some entrance structure that you’ve never seen before. BUT once you walk through that structure you get to see hundreds of people taking tons of pictures, BUT once you make it past them, then you see it. The Taj. Seriously it manages to be even more beautiful in person.
It was the complete turning point of my trip. None of the filth seemed to matter as I stared mesmerizingly at this grand building. WOW. To think that a man built this structure out of love for his wife. He built it in white to symbolize her loves purity, and had planned a symmetrical black dome across the river to symbolize the depression he felt after she died. Such a love was unheard of in those days. Too bad his son didn’t feel that love, and instead imprisoned his dad, stopped the building of the black dome, and claimed that he was the new king. Talk about a rebellious stage. 
This inside of the Taj Mahal was decent, nothing super, but it did have some crazy ceramic work that was translucent and shimmered in the sun. Later on that day we went to a ceramics factory where they, to this day, make comparable art but it was so expensive I felt uncomfortable being there (I may look at something the wrong way and break it). We had to rush at the end of our visit because it was 5:30 and the Agra fort, our last stop, closed at 6. Some people got upset but we had 2 hours at the Taj which is far beyond what you need (some SAS trips went for a half hour).
As we left we again had to walk through the vendors and I saw a gift that I needed, but I had a price in mind and I wasn’t going above it. Finally I got him down to it but we had hoped in our van and the driver wasn’t waiting for me to get the cash out. The man jumped onto the side of the van, held on with one hand tossed me the souvenir with the other then continued to take my cash and jump off the van which, at this point, had already begun to go full speed. Small aside—I accidentally left the gift in the hotel room that night (I bought the same one again because I liked it so much—don’t worry).
So to the fort. The Agra Fort was similar to Fatephur Sikri, and also impressive, but when you come from the Taj you become a little jaded. It pales in comparison. It’s hard to impress when you’ve just seen something amazing. Think about seeing my brothers after you look at me. Sure they are cute, but man o man, I am just impressive. They let us stay there late after closing so we got to watch the sunset, unfortunately our view of the Taj was obscured so we didn’t get to fully see that gorgeous site.
After a brief stop at a shop for my friend Shanon to buy a camera (hers fell and broke at Sikri, we went back to the hotel, had dinner and used the gym. Seriously time flies because by the time all was said and done it was already 12and we had to get up at 4:30 again the next day to head back to Delhi.
Fun fact: I slept more in a sitting position than on a bed throughout this trip…

Delhi Sandwich

Riddle me this batmen,
Does it not feel that time is flying by? Is the glass half full (I still have half the trip left) or half empty (half the trip is already over)? The answer: Neither. You see, the glass is fully full. It may be half full of water and half empty of water, but even the waterless side is full of something (air). Nothing can ever be empty, merely full of something that takes us longer to realize. Damn, I did become inspirational in India. AND I learned how to plagiarize and call some Hindu’s work my own. So now, India: Created in 1947, the land of milk (cows) and honeys (Latika).
India seems to be a confused country; rich in culture and history, but struggling in terms of fiscal equality and social parity. Upon disembarking from this ship this dichotomy (sup Dad?) of richness and poverty is readily apparent. The gaps are inconceivably high. But, as you will all come to learn as you read the inspirational words that we call “Jordan’s blog” India runs much deeper than first impressions.
Upon disembarking from the ship all high hopes I had for India immediately disintegrated (don’t worry, this story has a happy ending). I saw a gross country; it smelled worse than my feet after I wear my Naot, people were peeing everywhere (Lee, they didn’t have Tea bottles), and my shorts got do dirty even I felt uncomfortable. We had to walk about a mile in the scorching Indian heat to catch a cab, and even then all we found was an auto rickshaw. We went to a mall in Chennai called the Spencer Plaza. It is one of the largest malls in India, dates back to colonial times (though it was rebuilt in 1983 because of a fire) and is a staple of Chennai (Madras).  We walked around a little, ate at a delicious India restaurant (we will discuss food in greater detail in a bit), and headed back to the ship so I could meet my group and head to Delhi.
Afer a 45 minute delay (someone forgot something on the ship and had to run the 1 mile to and from the ship) we nervously set out for the airport and with no further problems boarded the plane and headed to Delhi. We got in at like 10pm and we had to get up early the next day so we just went straight to bed (e.g. we had wireless so I went on skype/ aim until 1am). We woke up at 7 and were off to see Delhi.
Delhi, split into New and Old Delhi, is an interesting city. It is, and for a long time has been, the capitol of India. The day started the same way most days do…a trip to Mosque. Jama Masjid is one of Asia’s largest mosques. From the top pillars one can see a 360 degree view of Delhi. The open yard which holds up to 20,000 people gives it a warm and welcoming feel, but the beggars and pigeons dampen that feel. India’s history was starting to come alive, but a brief half hour rickshaw ride around the town of Chawri Bazaar snapped me back to reality and reminded me that I still did not like this smelly, dirty country.
This grossness, however, was not at all apparent at our next stop: Raj Ghat. Rajghat (you chose which spelling you prefer) is the burial place of one Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi. Gangdhi was a baller; if only more people would follow his message of satyagraha, ruthless nonviolence, the world would be a undeniably better place.  The grounds were gorgeous covered in trees and greenery that were a welcome hiatus from the dirt and filth. People prayed at the burial site and it had the feel of remarkably sacred space.
Before lunch we made a quick stop at the India Gate. Truthfully this site was remarkably unremarkable, but allow me to remark a few brief remarks. Our professor always claims that the more you know them roe interesting a place will be; this place proved that sentiment. Knowing the intentional axial grid, understanding the implications of a fully rounded arch, and having studied that history of its place as British built WWI memorial made the visit extraordinarily memorable.
On the way to lunch our tour guide pointed out the red fort, a great symbol in Indian history, the place where independence was declared, but we didn’t go in because he didn’t find it interesting (clearly he never studied it). Lunch was decent, but even by day 2 spicy rice was starting to get old. Luckily, I had the greatest dessert ever. No one remembers the name, but if you are reading this and you know it get back to me immediately. It was some donut-hole shaped ball with a dark outside that looked almost like a plum. The inside was golden and tasted like nuts, sugar and honey, and it was placed on top of a scoop  of vanilla ice cream. Yummy.
 We continued on a drive past Rashtrapati Bhawan, the hub of government buildings. It was interesting because they were designed and built by British architects and engineers in the 20th c., but they were unimpressive. I was expecting something much grander from what the British called their Jewel.
It was already 5 o’clock and we headed to a market but I wanted o leave the group to go to Chabad for Shabbat. Unfortunately no Rickshaw or taxi would take me to it and it would be an hour trip back to my hotel so I had to give up on the plan. Instead I stayed in the market until around 8, went back to the hotel showered and got ready, had dinner, and….didn’t go out because I was too tired. Either way it was already 10ish and all bars in Delhi close by 12 due to security. Instead I went online and spoke to my wonderful siblings.
The next morning my wakeup call came at 4:30 and by 4:45 we were on our way to Agra.

Guns and Roses

8am arrived quickly and we were off to the Cu Chi tunnels. Cu Chi was a central strategic point in the war. Due to its close proximity to Saigon, and its heavily communist population the Americans viewed Cu Chi as a key city. In response the inhabitants built tunnels. These were crawling tunnels, built so pettily that an American soldier dressed in full garb would be unable to penetrate them. Even I, smaller than the average solider in stature and in only shorts and a t-shirt, had a difficult time entering them. At the start of our time there we saw a brief film in which the Americans were referred to as “little devils” and “ruthless murderers shooting everything in sight.” Again, this shows two things; 1) the censorship in a one party country, and 2) the hardship that American weaponry and carelessness caused on this civilization. As we crawled through the tunnels and walked in the surrounding areas we learned that 10,000 people lived in bunkers placed sporadically throughout the tunnels. Such a hard life is unimaginable, but in guerilla warfare it is necessary. I shot my first gun, an AK 47, and it grounded me a bit. I shot it at the end of February, in shorts and a t, with ear clogs on; the soliders had to shoot mid summer, in full gear, with nothing protecting their ears. The difficulties it caused these solidiers suddenly became vivid. While the experience itself was amazing, the experience transcended time and was extraordinarily frightening in that regard.
As we left we discussed all this at a local restaurant, where I finally switched from Pho to Veggie fried rice. Once we were done, after a brief scare where the car would not start, we continued on to the Mekong delta.
Note: This part of the blog will be long; however, it will also be describing some of the greatest hours of my life.
We arrived at the delta and were greeted by a second tour guide whose specialty was the Mekong. We went on a small boat from mainland, across the delta, to Unicorn Island. Once we got off the ship and made our way through the swarm of harassing shop keepers, the lady opened a mystery wooden box. Suddenly, out flew hundreds of bees. They all flocked to the rows of flowers near by which, for the sake of this blogs title, we shall call roses. Luckily they were harmless, and she literally scraped the side of the box and we ate their amazing honey. We mixed the honey with tea, and ate some plain—it was one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten. They also gave us different candies made of honey; one was nuts honey and something else and tasted remarkably like Mom’s Purim candy (PS-please save me some of that and some hamantashen). As we were eating, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a snake in a cage. Being the man that I am, I asked to hold it. Turns out you can!! I felt like I was back at the fun place at a 10 year old birthday party freaking out. I manned up and did it. I’m a man, and I’m not even 40.
After seeing my life flash before my eyes, we continued down a narrow walk way to a table with like 10 different fresh fruits. These included, but were not limited to, star fruit, dragon fruit, papaya, and others that I can’t remember their names. They were so delicious, and as we ate them we were entertained by local traditional music. Can’t say the music was on par with counting crows, but it was definitely good. We gave them tips, and they let us climb the trees to pick the fruits: apparently I don’t go apple picking enough, because I stunk and got like 10 Star Fruit that were all premature.
With a full, very full stomach, we went through some shrubbery into a little canoe.  Only 4 people fit in these little boats that we rowed down a rather remote section of the delta. We went on this for about a half hour, through some of the most tropical landscape one can imagine. Truly a paradise. As we got off the boat we went to the coconut factory. Unfortunately, we got there a bit late so we could not make our own, but we had free samples, tasted the uncooked mix, and let me tell you, it was as delicious as I am.
From there we hoped on a horse and carriage. The driver said something to Hung, our amazing guide that made Hung crack up. Apparently he said, “Sorry if I drive this horse a little crazy, I’ve had too much banana wine.” Don’t be fooled by the name—banana wine is not wine at all, more like tequila. Luckily we arrived to our next destination safely.
This is where the story gets amazing. As we were walking down the road with many houses we saw the Budhist pagoda. Though it wasn’t on our itinerary I asked to enter, and the guide complied. As we walked in, the Monk had just gotten home. Not only did he show us around, but he sat us down, had tea with us, and told us all about himself and his temple. He had become a monk 15 years ago after he had started a family. He was one of only two monks in the delta and was very passionate. His message was about peace and serenity. You could tell he believed every word that he spoke. As I left he gave me a monk, and told my translator that he sees me being a monk one day. He also pulled my hair and said I would have to cut that off first. HA. These locks are turning into braids soon enough.
From there we headed back to the boat for another quick trip on the larger boat while watching the sunset. Then we got back in the van and headed to our hotel which was 2 hours away (closer to where we would be going in the morning). So, we were on our way…or so we thought. About 10 minutes into the drive the car broke down. Remember how it wouldn’t start before? Turns out that WAS a big deal. We got stranded in real rural Vietnam for over an hour.  Scary? Nothing compared to what would come next.
Eventually we got into a new taxi and we were back on our way. Until we got stuck in traffic. Weird part was that it was 11pm still in rural Vietnam. Turns out this wasn’t traffic at all, just a corrupt cop, stopping cars and making them pay to advance. So, our tour guide took us out of the car, we walked through with our heads down, not knowing where we were. We hoped on a ferry, headed to the other side of the water and got into yet another taxi. The sigh of relief I let out upon entering our hotel must have been louder than, well, use your imagination.
To cool off we went out for ice cream, and called it a night because tomorrow’s wake up was at 6am. When we woke up we headed on another smallish boat to what is called the floating market. This is the place where the masses of Vietnamese who live on boats go to get there food. It was incredible. Boats would just come up, hop on another boat and purchase whatever they need. We got some pineapple and it was delicious. Fun fact: 48% of the world lives on less than $2 a day. This is also true in Vietnam. But it doesn’t affect them, they are so happy and content with their lives. While we should always try and give them choices, we need not necessarily judge their life style.
After the market we headed back to Saigon and said goodbye to our main man Hung. Our time in Vietnam was basically over, but it was well spent. BUT WAIT, there’s more. We looked in our pockets and noticed 1,000 dong. Not enough to change back to dollars, but just enough to go to a water park! So we hoped back in and headed to Dem Sen water park. Once we got there it looked amazing. Well, almos all of it looked amazing. All except the sign that read “The park is closed on Tuesday March 2nd”. Darn. Well, we still had our 1,000 so we headed back to our beloved market. What could my $5 by me you ask. How about a pair of fake shorts, the notebook and up? Heck yes! O right, and also a glass of watermelon juice, and a glass of mango strawberry.
We headed back to the boat and called it a country. WOW. The country emerged from such devastation with such vitality. It still has a definite ways to climb, but it is certainly headed in the right direction. Part of me wonder where this country would be had the war never happened. Would it be a prosperous power house or a crippled communist state? Is it possible that in a backwards kind of way the way helped the people? No one will ever know the answers to these questions, but pondering them is interesting in itself.
Who would think that Vietnam could be so beautiful? As we head to India and wrap up Eastern Asia my time has been amazing. I realized on Friday night that I had spent the past 3 Friday nights in Japan, China and Vietnam. Now I have 8 days on the ship to soak it all in and make sure that the messages that I learned, and the feelings that I felt are not merely memories, but are integrals elements of my being. It sounds cliché but on a trip like this, the worst possible scenario is one where the magic is lost. Hope you guys enjoyed, stay tuned for some stories from the Taj…

Mani Pedi? More like Manly Pedi!

At 5:45 we all woke, got dressed, had some breakfast, and headed to the train station to catch what we thought was a 6:55 train. Though our ticket said 6:30, the front desk demanded that it was a misprint. They were wrong. We missed the train, and were stranded at the train station with no food, money, or clothing for the rest of Vietnam. OR, we may have decided to take a Taxi to Mui Ne. It is extremely inexpensive and significantly cheaper than one might imagine. Rather than sleeping in the car ride, an idea that one may refer to as logical, we decided to blast music, play our newly purchased DVD’s, and stay up all 4 hours. Good idea? Probably not, but it sure was fun.
Once we got to Mui Ne we headed o lunch at a place called do Ira. We do I tell you the name, you may ask. Well, because I ended up eating about 4 meals there, and together they totaled $8.  After lunch, aka Pho, we rented motorbikes. Before I go any further let me answer my mothers questions: 1) Yes, this is stupid and unsafe, and 2) yes, we do now know why it is not allowed. My friend Srgan (Pronounced Sir Jon, he is Bosnian) got one first and was able to pick it up with ease. I go on second and felt comfortable pretty quickly. Tahlor got on third and immediately fell down. Not a big deal, he got back up and tried again. This time he went full speed into the back of my bike. He broke his bikes rearview mirror, and scratched the side of mine. I remained unscathed while he cut up his foot pretty badly. Funny part is that all that damaged cost him $10. I love this country.
Until 5pm we just hung out by the pool and laid out on the beach, but at 5 we headed to the sand dunes to watch the sunset. We took a Jeep there (we had a driver, don’t worry) and climbed up to see one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. From the top it seemed like you were in the middle of a dessert, but if you turned around you saw gorgeous trees growing in a mini forest, and if you continued to turn you saw the ocean. Three biomes living adjacent to each other. Though I had no synagogue nearby to celebrate Purim in the traditional way, this truly was one of the most spiritual experiences of my life. The night ended early, as one would predict, but the day was so full and great that it felt like it could not be anymore complete.
The next morning we woke up to get our free breakfast. Imagine an all you can eat buffet and double it—awesomeness. From there we went straight to the beach, considered parasailing, but in the end just relaxed a little. Then it was time for one of the most epic decision of my life: I was going to get a manicure.  Vietnam is known for Mani-Pedi’s, so I figured I would give it a try; make Lee proud. To be honest, I was pretty excited; however, after they completed just one hand I hated it so much I just paid and left. Talk about disappointing. To get over it I watched the Notebook and ate a large tub of ice cream.
Well, the time had come to head back to Saigon, so we went to the tourist agency who had rented us the motorbikes and asked for a taxi. We got more than that. He asked us what we were doing for the rest of our time in Nam, and then offered to be our tour guide, provide a driver and book all of our plans. This is exactly what we had been looking for, so we quickly agreed. Turned out to be the greatest deal since the Yankees purchased Babe Ruth.

Goooooood morning Vietnam!!

Not only a great way to greet people, but also a fantastic movie. I would say head to blockbuster to rent a copy, but even with my limited internet and complete lack of contact with the civilized world I have managed to remain updated on the lowly video rental company’s unfortunate miseries. Luckily, however, I cannot even remotely relate to these miseries: Vietnam was awesome.
Our trip to Vietnam began in Hanoi. It was September 2nd and Ho Chi Minh had just delivered a speech declaring independence. Oops that wasn’t me; wrong American trip, I apologize.
My trip, contrarily, began in Ho Chi Minh City (HCMC)(formerly known as Saigon) on February 26th. Upon debarking from the ship we were cordially greeted by about 500 men standing under 5 feet tall, inviting us to share a motorbike with them for the scenic trip to downtown. As tempting as it was, we respectfully declined. Instead, we opted to walk the 1km. Along the way we saw many great things: we saw an all you can eat/ all you can drink restraint for $5, exchanged money at a rate of 18,640 to 1, and entered the Rex hotel—the hotel where soldiers and reporters used to gather over drinks.
From the Rex we walked to our hotel, the Spring hotel, where we squeezed about 10 people into a two person room. We more needed it as storage and a place to shower than anything else, because we were taking the 6 am train the next morning. So, after we threw our bags down, took advantage of their free unlimited (yet censored) internet, we headed to lunch.
As usual, the eating scared me as I never know if there will be anything I can eat. Luckily, at my very first meal, I found a food that would revolutionize my life: Pho (pronounced fu as in fun). Though it is normally a meat dish they have recently begun to make it vegetarian. It was delicious, and, fun fact, I ate it 7 times in my 5 days in Vietnam.
For those of you who have remained updated on my blog you will recall that I went to the Hiroshima Peace Museum just a few weeks back. I was impressed with how unbiased the museum was and by how the central message was not anti-American but rather anti nuclear war. This museum could not have been more different. In fact, until recently it was known as the museum of American war crimes. One must bear in mind that in a one party country the museum tells the story the way the dictator would like it to be told. Even though I knew of this extreme slant coming in, it was very  difficult to see many of the images and hear all of the stories. Further proof that war is a disgusting solution, and should be only the last resort (and rules of war should not be considered oxymoronic). Along the way we also saw the reunification palace; the true Vietnamese symbol of what they call “the American war.”
From there we had to quickly change our emotions as we headed to the Ben Thanh Market. The market is like a gigantic shuk where you can by anything and everything. Some more illegal than others. We started of searching for suites; they custom makes suits for $60. These amazingly nice suits are $300 right outside the market. We decided to agree that we would only pay $50 each. Apparently that was too low, and we left suitless. I’m over it. Instead I spent $28 on DVD’s. I purchased every episode of Weeds and How I met Your Mother, as well as every cartoon Disney movie ever made. As we were walking away, celebrating our awesome purchase, I ran into Eric Cooper, my roommate next year.
Let me rewind…Cooper and I were supposed to hang out in Nam because he is studying in Singapore. Instead, we ended up only bumping into each other twice because my phone stopped working, and he didn’t check his email once (or answer texts I sent from my friend’s phone). Either way, it was wonderful to see him even only for a bit.
Side note, it was 95 degrees out. With that in mind, we all decided to shower at the hotel and head out to dinner. For dinner we went to restaurant that picks up orphans and street kids, trains them in English and hospitality, and prepares them to work in the restaurant business.  Not only where there stories amazing, but the food was actually very good.
The night ended with a beer at the bar at the Rex hotel, and a trip on the motorbike to another historic bar, Apollo. The day ended with the feeling that the war remained ingratiated into the countries essence; how far from the truth this will soon seem to be…