Ocean (Sans Ponies)

Most of you know that three years ago I did the Semester at Sea program – studied on a cruise ship while it sailed places and wandered those places when we got there and there were no diamond ponies in the ocean.

*brief skirmish*

(and I got my computer back from Chelsea…)

I blather about it often, so I beg your indulgence if I go back to it briefly.

Before Semester at Sea I was hugely excited about spending so much time close to the ocean. I’ve been relatively close to Lake Erie most of my life, but it isn’t quite the same thing. The oceans, the seven seas, have inspired so much. Poets and explorers alike have been captivated by the sea for thousands of years. And I admit, I was looking to be impressed.

And I wasn’t, really. It was vast, incomprehensibly so – I remember realizing that it would take me an hour or so walking straight down to reach the earth beneath my feet – but not what I was looking for. It also gave me horrific motion sickness.

I found the ocean fascinating in the way a screensaver can be, or the DVD symbol bouncing ever closer to the corners of a TV. While diverting, it was not the stuff of poetry.

And thus it remained for the first week or so. Then we hit rough water between Hawaii and Japan. The waves were double my height, and the forbidding storm grey, steel gray that is the province of poets. The sun set on this ocean, unobstructed save for the horizon and I leaned out on the slick rail. Sea spray hit my face and I tasted salt. And I have loved the ocean since.

And I have missed her for three years.

So getting to spend time in places near the various oceans and seas has been important, like running into an old friend. Who still makes me queasy if I’m not careful.

We’ve skimmed over our ocean voyages so far on the blog – mostly because the first few we slept through, and our last was governed by incredibly rough water and our gloom at having departed the Englands and England.

I would like to put in a good word for the Irish Sea, as providing a gorgeous backdrop for Wicklow and a sunrise I had not intended to see over it. The residents insisted that it was possible to swim, but Chelsea and I declined.

In Barcelona and Nice we actually went and fluttered about in the ocean. In Nice especially the waves had a kick to them, enough to knock the knees from under you if you weren’t paying attention. And I find it strangely comforting to be so very small and to play, carefully, with something so very big.

In Nice too we got to see jellyfish. Chelsea noticed them first – small black leaf-like critters – and decided it was best to evacuate the area.

She did not tell me what led to her haste. I chilled in the water for another moment and upon perceiving that Chelsea was done with the water I too climbed out. Then she explained why she retreated to dry land. To her credit, she was not sure they were jellyfish, they might just as easily have been leaves and paranoia.

A minute later an older man came towards us, holding out a Pringles can. As Chelsea and I tried to politely decline his offer of chips he showed us a tiny captive jellyfish. He had mistaken it for a condom until he noticed there were lots of them.

We have since learned that these were velella velella and they are Chelsea’s new favorite jellyfish. We have also learned that they are harmless to humans, although one should wash ones hands before touching ones eyes and face after handling them. And nudibranchs eat them.

Now we are on the way to Geneva, and away from the ocean. For now.

(ps. the ponies will make sense next time. Promise)

Ponderings a Month Before - 2

Part 2 - Hanna

In this past year my life has been laden with projects. I had a thesis and a portfolio, a play to stage manage, a club to run and a workshop to organize. And when I needed a break from that I would look for things to do in Europe. I would put away the word documents and spend some time wandering the internet. I looked for hostels and chocolate museums, train tickets and castles, rail passes and city passes and ferries and flights. And nudibranchs. It was a calming exercise, looking forward past the stresses of senior year.

I built an itinerary, stealing bits and pieces from professional tour routes and making up the rest with what may turn out to be a hopeful naivety. Part of it is guessing, part rumors of places I want to see and a few stops are for family or visiting places for a second look. Luck will also be making a cameo or two.

And for all that work, for all the giddy panic of looking at the calendar, I still cannot entirely wrap my mind around the fact that Chelsea and I are going to wander around these countries. In the end, all my planning will be useful, but ultimately insufficient. Photos and confirmation emails don’t prepare you. I won’t believe it until we touch down, until we step out into Heathrow Airport. I might not believe it then.

Wow. Heathrow. *shivers*

Last night my parents and I ran some basic German and French, when I remembered: “I need to know how to say ‘platform’.”

It’s funny how things like that stick with you. Not knowing “platform” was the hardest part of traveling by train and not knowing the language. If you walk up to a ticket booth, hold up two fingers and say “Paris” then the meaning is hard to miss. But what gesture do you use for “platform”? I've tried a few. Unsuccessfully.

“Bahnsteig.” Right. Now I just have to remember. And learn it in a few more languages.

Most of my projects are done now, and trip research has taken on a more serious bent. It’s time to reserve trains and ferries. Time to make sure we have a place to stay during Fringe Fest and a way to get to Andorra and a bus from Garmisch to Neuschwanstien. Time to come to terms with panicking because of everything I won't know before we get there.

I have shopping lists and a packing list. Things we need to buy in London and what we should bring. I’m still struggling with how many books to let myself take. I’m gathering email addresses and physical addresses for postcards. The next month will go too fast. The following three will go so much faster.

We’re almost there. How crazy is that?

Ponderings a Month Before - 1

Part 1 - Chelsea

It occurred to me at about 1 am this morning that I am going to Europe in one month. In 37 days, I will board a flight across the Atlantic Ocean to land on a continent I've never touched before. For the next three months, I will see over 20 countries, hear over a dozen different languages - none of which I speak, and hopefully return to the states with some modicum of perspective on how truly diverse our world is.

Reality hit like a kid's forehead against a freshly windexed glass door. Hanna and I had always seen this in our respective futures. We've been talking about traveling together since High School, but it had always been a vaseline smeared haze: we will do this, but when? Two years ago we started carving out a plan. When Hanna graduated, we would go. Not in the summer - too many tourists - but if we left in August we'd still get the heat.

I told the company I worked for - over a year and a half in advance - and got it approved by my manager. Of course, he couldn't guarantee I'd have a job when I came back; that sort of permanence is rare in my industry. I didn't care; it was worth it. Everyone says "someday", but someday won't come unless you commit. If that cost a job, it cost a job.

We started to save. Three thousand, five thousand, thirteen thousand dollars in my account. Add in Hanna's six, and we had nearly a twenty thousand dollar budget for our three months in Europe. "More than enough," friends assured.

My branch was let go in February, and I faced the difficult issue of having four months before our trip and needing a job. I decided the trip was more important, and said upfront in my interviews that I had to be in Europe August, September, and October.

Zynga, crazy bastards, still hired me.

I blinked and we were buying plane tickets: August 3rd because they're cheapest on Tuesdays. Then Eurorail passes. Hostel deposits. Backpacks.

I was fitted for mine (an Osprey women's backpack with a detachable daypack) at REI by one of the nicest customer service representatives I've ever had. I'm going to try and fit three months into that pack. I ached the next day when it had 25 lbs. The representative said I should expect a fully packed version to weigh closer to 40.

(I still have to buy a netbook, camera, walking/hiking shoes, American souvenirs for thank you gifts, a nice sheet set to double as a sleeping bag, and possibly more flexible clothing. Also possibly a compass. Lord knows I'm lost as is.)