The class that is challenging me the most on this voyage is Nomadology, a course in multi-writing, war and peace, multiple multiples, either/and, my-story/stery and so much more. It is rattling all my cages - and that's a good thing. An assignment for the class asked us to respond to a very simple question: Why do I travel? The piece below is my current answer. I welcome your comments.

EITHER HOME AND QUOZ

Varanasi is either home and Quoz, either myself and The Other. During one spectacular sunrise in 2002, that ancient Indian city on the Ganges revealed to me its everyday life, brimful of mystery and contradiction: cleansing in filthy water; life-affirming rituals performed with bloated corpses floating by; dawn and darkness; bells and Sanskrit chanting; water and fire; saffron marigolds and tattered grey shrouds; magnetism and revulsion.

Varanasi is why I travel – to come face to face with quoz, The Other. In Road to Quoz: An American Mosey, his greatest work since Blue Highways, William Least Heat Moon resuscitates this moribund word as he explores the universally recognized phenomenon of encountering that which is completely foreign, exotic, unknown. Beginning from his home in Missouri, he goes in search of what is totally outside his familiar and quickly finds it, often quite nearby.

My own travels have been guided by a similar search, by my hunger for the not-me. My Life List of Destinations was once headed by Tibet and then it became Morocco, which a fortuitous itinerary change for this voyage has delivered to me. Now the tiny South Pacific island of Yap is number one. Having lived these encounters with exotic places in faraway lands a number of times, I’m beginning to look more closely at how I react, what happens in the intersection.

My habitual response when I come face-to-face with quoz has been to observe only. I make mental and digital notes then later wrap the experience in spoken and written words. I want to change that, to discover ways to respond differently, perhaps to interact. I want to acknowledge the questions I have, the gaps in my understanding. If I act on the very human urge to seek out common ground, what does that do to the otherness? What does it feel like to inhabit that question, that tension? What propels me toward quoz, what am I really seeking? Can I embrace the challenging concept of either/and?

I know there will be many more questions. I confess I’ve lived a life too often characterized by hubris, by thinking I know many answers. Beginning on this voyage, I want to learn to celebrate the questions.

Shake Down Cruise to Turks and Caicos

There was a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on at the Bollywood dance class yesterday. Three young Indian-American women led a handful of brave volunteers through a dance number they had choreographed themselves in preparation for the talent show later in the evening. Their gleaming black hair swayed and their dark eyes smiled coyly as their bodies jumped, strutted and shimmied. My fellow corps members were a diverse bunch – young, not-so-young, slim, curvy, black, white, confident, awkward. We threw ourselves into the dance, trying to mimic the beautiful movements of our mentors, their hands, hips, shoulders, and heads all sensuously synchronized with lithe legs and supple feet. The song told the story of two lovers, of course, and the corresponding dance steps illustrated the phases of the universal boy-meets-girl ritual. The results of our strivings were, well, let’s just say mixed. But we all had fun, laughing, tangling our feet and begging for just one more run through from the top. I had chosen the class as my workout for the day with no intention, despite friendly urging, of performing in the show. I was their most enthusiastic fan that evening, cheering on my fellow dancers. When my classmates finished the routine and drifted away, the three young women continued alone to delight us with a gorgeous demonstration of how it’s really done.

Bollywood dance is just one of the offerings on the Reunion Voyage of Semester at Sea to Turks and Caicos. The program has been full of all the beloved elements of SAS with plenty of time to socialize with shipmates, colleagues and new friends.

We listened to Les McCabe, the President of SAS and Executive Dean on my upcoming Spring 09 voyage, summarize an extremely successful past year and excite us with all the plans and challenges ahead. The goals include “greening” the ship, partnering with international universities in China and Germany, maintaining enrollment at its current peak levels during these challenging financial times and an ambitious capital campaign to support the present and future quality of the program.

Semester at Sea’s mission is “to educate individuals for leadership, service and success in shaping our interdependent world.” Go see the film The Soloist when it is released near the end of April and you’ll see that mission fulfilled. We were treated to the world premier of this true story about a brilliant musician, played poignantly by Jamie Foxx, who has schizophrenia and lives on the streets of Los Angeles. Steve Lopez, (Robert Downey, Jr.) is an LA Times reporter who struggles both with how to help him and what it means to be his friend. Producer Gary Foster, of Tin Cup and Sleepless in Seattle, is an SAS alumnus who applied to the homeless population of LA what he learned on his voyage about respect for people of a different culture. He insisted on shooting in Skid Row where the story actually took place and, over the strenuous objections of studio lawyers, he hired members of that community to play themselves in the film as well as be interns in the production process.

A dynamic literature professor from UVA, Dr. Jahan Ramazani, introduced us to the culture of Turks and Caicos by way of the poetry of some remarkable Caribbean poets. He brought recordings of the melodic voices of Derek Walcott (a special favorite of Barack Obama), Louise Bennett and others reading their work. The captivating voices of these Caribbean poets brought to life a cross-racial, hybridized cultural identity revealed in the creolized language. I thought of what Dr, Ramazani said about language being an important vehicle of historical memory as I listened to the cadence and musicality of our guide today who showed us around the island of Grand Turk.

I’ve shaken my booty to a Bollywood beat. My previous concept of the Caribbean as mostly a place to enjoy the sun and the water has been shaken up a little and broadened. I’ve unpacked, shaken the wrinkles from my clothes and am snuggly settled in cabin 5019, starboard side of the MV Explorer. I hope you’ll stay with me as I journey once again around the world.

I’ll leave you with my favorite passage from the poetry Dr, Ranazani shared with us. Derek Walcott wrote a long poem in the voice of Shabeen, “a cross-racial, cross-cultural West Indian Odysseus.” His words are fitting as we all prepare to celebrate the Inauguration of President Obama and as I prepare to go to sea:
“I’m just a red nigger who love the sea,
I had a sound colonial education.
I have Dutch, nigger and English in me,
and either I’m nobody, or I’m a nation.”