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)

On Recapping

The reader will have noticed, if you are following our journey with any attention at all, that our updates of late have been scarce, or perhaps missing would be more accurate. In the intervening time, a period of a week or so, many things have happened. And while I intend to oblige our readership with more detailed accounts of our more engaging episodes, I feel that it is perhaps necessary to supply some brief overview of highlights so that we do not fall too far behind in informing you of our travels.

(Please note that I have been reading a novel written in the high romantic style, and thus my own prose has taken on a perhaps more indulgent tone than it is wont, and I beg you, dear reader, to bear with me)

Of Fudge and Pheasants

Our most recent update concerns the emerald isle, but if you will permit me I find it necessary to backtrack slightly and say two words about Edinburgh.
It is a charming city, neither too large nor too small, and seemingly built entirely of an imposing grey stone, rather akin to the color of the sky (The English one, at least).

We partook of a range of culinary experiences, from an establishment where pizza is made (it referred to itself as a ‘hut’ although I find this odd as it was decidedly more comfortable than the quarters one usually associates with the word) to a tureen of pheasant and venison at a pub and to a most excellent purveyor of fudge.
Our stay in Scotland was brief, and yet complete in that we did have the privilege, while wandering this great city’s streets, to observe a man in traditional dress (a stripped skirt accompanied by all the accoutrements of that country) playing gaily upon his bag and pipes the tune known as “Scotland the Brave”.

Of Ferries and Military Time

It seems to be a requisite for any traveler of esteem to have those stories which are more entertaining in hindsight, and it is one such that I shall now briefly relate with a view to returning to the subject in the future.To be brief I purchased our passage from Britain to Ireland upon a ship. I assumed that this fine vessel departed at 2:45pm, since no sane person would leave at the corresponding time in the a.m.

I was proven sadly wrong.

Of Sweet Wicklow, the Garden of Ireland

Despite arriving with little sleep and at an hour whose very existence is unpleasant to recall, dear Chelsea and I arrived in Wicklow to find that the powers of the universe do indeed reward suffering and perseverance with blessings.Wicklow, with fascinating landscapes, ruins, and the most charming hosts we could have wished for, enchanted us within the hour and drove away thoughts of sleep with alacrity. I would endeavor to describe these wonders, but my poor scribe’s tongue lacks the vocabulary. So I shall simply add a few visual aids.
Of Equestrian Happenings

I have protested to my dearest travel partner that given her lovely and idyllic entry discussing the nature of horses and our first encounter with them on our trip, I should refrain from commenting on the experience. However, she insists, and who am I to refuse the request of a companion and honest friend?

Horses and I harbor a mutual distrust, stemming from their natural preference for contact with humans who know what on earth they are doing and from my own keen self-awareness of this precise lack in my education.

I would also like it to be recorded that the last time I rode any beast it was a camel, and this more than three years ago with the constant help and attention of a staggeringly brave ten-year-old.

However, not to be cowed, I did attempt the same journey which Chelsea recalls so fondly. I will gladly attest to the beauty of the scenery, and also to the bright sunshine which attended it to the glory of both.I must admit myself slightly distracted by my primary objective in this endeavor: not to be dislodged from my mount until such time as it was appropriate and under my own volition.

This objective was complicated by the fact that I never learned to “trot” and that without stricter guidance than was available I did not in fact learn in this particular instance. I am told that I bounced with rather alarming consistency and height, and, I may add, that it was with no small amount of discomfort.

I will not say that I was won over by the experience, but rather that it strengthened my resolve to caulk the gaps in my skill.

Of Buses and Punctuality

Upon our last day in the heavenly Wicklow, we rose before the sun to catch our first of several forms of transportation, this being a bus meant to pick us up at 4:30 am. Upon waiting for said bus to appear with no favorable result to report after half an hour we proceeded both to curse the national buses of Ireland and to alter our plans accordingly.

I shall not bore you with details at the moment, since I already fear that this entry has run verbose. But I will mention that “Children of Dune”, a small bog cat, “brekkers”, timely hot cocoa and friends all played parts in getting us through the mishaps caused by that bus.

On Monuments, Present and Past


Before continuing on the outline of our journey I must pause with an unjust brevity to remark upon the kindness of our hosts in Plymouth, the Englands. Throughout the sadly few days we were able to stay with them their exuberance, concern for our well-being and amiable demeanor enchanted and comforted us upon our journey.

Under their guidance we were conducted to a marvelous garden dominated by strange honeycombed buildings made of some thin and obviously durable material. The purpose of this place seems to be the preservation of the environment in general as well as the cultivation of such optimism as is possible in the face of the impending threats to our planet devised with such careful cunning by ourselves.
Beyond this we fearlessly challenged the elements in an attempt to see a ruin, of which history I was personally enamored, and discovered an alarming number of shops claiming proprietorship by a long dead king and his various relations and counselors. This ruin, was indeed there, diminished somewhat in glory by the hotel set on the hill above it and meant to imitate the structure now battered by time and the elements into so many crumbling walls.
I must not neglect to mention that during this trip we stopped at various points to enjoy such picturesque and charming villages as the countryside offered.

Of Our Current Situation and Disposition

We are currently onboard a ship once more, and pursuing a course for Saint Malo on the coast of France with the utmost expedience. You may assume, dear reader, that we have arrived safely if this is posted, since only in such condition shall your humble writer be able to do so.

I hope that my concise report meets with your approval and that your curiosity is satisfyingly piqued and any anxiety allayed. Until next we meet, au revoir.