GETTING IN TOUCH WITH MY INNER FETUS

Clutching the lurching podium, Professor Robert Fessler, our Global Studies (aka Core) instructor, urged us to get in touch with our inner fetus. The rampant scourge of seasickness ravaging the shipboard community, he explained, was caused not just by the nasty weather outside but also by our body’s confusion at trying to function on an unsteady earth. Its violent nausea was an “Emergency! Emergency!” message from us to us. What was needed was some time for our body to remember its long ago suspension in our mother’s womb when it knew how to navigate in an unstable environment. When we were able to get in touch with our inner fetus, he assured us, all would be well. I must report that my lines of communication with that erstwhile self are improving but still somewhat staticky.

We’ve had a rough start. The seas have been huge, the weather stormy and the time of our resting in Busan, Korea still a daunting 10 days away. Last night was the worst – we all slept very badly, being constantly awakened by the extreme rolling and pitching jolting our bodies (I woke up at least two of the many times grabbing for handfuls of mattress and bedding as my body was headed for the floor – now I know why sailors traditionally sleep in hammocks!), crashes to the floor of what we thought were well stowed possessions (including a bolted down TV onto someone’s laptop), the banging of drawer and cabinet doors, and assorted LOUD noises. My cabin is directly under the Union. I discovered this morning that the enormous crash I heard in the night was probably the new Yamaha grand piano careening across the floor, losing one leg and ending up upside down surrounded by shards of wood and ivory. I saw a very talented boy all by himself in the Union yesterday expertly playing scales to begin a relationship with this instrument he expected to enjoy throughout the voyage – such a shame. The bookstore and campus store, newly opened yesterday, are closed again as all their merchandise is on the floor, broken racks everywhere. It was a bad night. Still, there were all these bright faces this morning at breakfast, students soldiering on and taking it all in stride, albeit a drunken sailor’s stride. One member of the dining room crew admitted he had never been in worse seas. The captain has taken a southerly detour today for the second time and the sun has just now peeked through the clouds with the seas decidedly calmer. We’ll have to make it up later but luckily this is a “go fast ship” the captain says and we’ll hope for a break in the storm fronts later on so we can run back north.

Everyone’s high hopes for this voyage have taken something of a beating but remain intact, most of the time anyway. I’ve decided that seasickness medications do, in fact, make me sleepy in spite of my previous experience; I took 3 naps the first day. But worse, they make me grumpy. I have been very disappointed in the situation with taking courses. This new ship has very much smaller classrooms and they are strictly enforcing how many people can be in the rooms; in fact, most of them just cannot have one more chair crammed in. The result of this is that 6 of the 8 courses I was excited about are closed. I approached 3 of the professors to see if I could talk my way in with no luck at all. I then decided I would wait until the class had met a few times and then try to slip into the seat of a student too hung-over or disinterested to come. Unfortunately the assistant dean overheard my plan and told me they would be having the profs report absentees and those students would be called by the dean – for the first absence! I get the feeling they’re really cracking down, in more ways than the alcohol policy. I actually think my absentee’s seat strategy will work – I don’t think they can really make kids come to class that consistently. Too many of them get no credit for these courses or have already essentially graduated and are doing this for the experience alone. We’ll see.

My others whinings shall go unreported here. But you all know how excited I have been and so can imagine that it would take a lot to dampen my spirits this much. However, overall I remain very excited about this voyage and am truly happy to be back. Whenever I get discouraged by the prospect of this long, rough crossing or some other concern, I remember why it really is I love this experience. I need to make myself one of those signs like James Carville had in the War Room in 1992, only mine will say “It’s the people, Stupid!” The extraordinary, wondrous asset of any SAS voyage is truly its people. Fascinating, curious, eager, earnest, smart, caring and energetic people fill every cabin on this ship and I meet dozens of them every day. I just had lunch with the mental health counselor who helped me figure out how to find a place to learn more about meditation when I’m in Japan. One of the other senior passengers is the woman who started microlending in Haiti and now has a program in Tanzania. My cute friend Bo, the student from Texas whom I met on the bus going river rafting in Vail this summer, always has a smile or a hug. I ate dinner with a young woman from the Oswald Foundation, a family foundation I had heard of at Council on Foundation meetings that has really gotten its young people involved, and she told me many stories of doing site visits in Africa – we have lots to share. And on and on. What a rich, complex and inspiring group of people I’ll be learning from and traveling with around this amazing world of ours!