Today we had an all-English informal chat session with the Palestinian and Israeli students who are on the ship from Jordan to New York. None of us expected it to fall apart as much as the discussion with Dr. W and Fadi from Iraq because the Palestinian and Israeli students are much younger and have become our friends in the last few weeks. They also probably haven’t been through as much as Dr.W has. So we showed up to the lecture ready to be educated. We weren’t allowed inside though. Instead we were told to form a line. Then we were yelled at to form a line. Anyone who laughed or smirked at the line forming business was made to go to the end of the line. We were all asked to produce our identification. The first woman’s identification was taken and had to be “checked.” It wasn’t returned. She asked if she could go in, or when she go in, or if she could have her ID back. She wasn’t given any answers. I loaned a friend one of my spare IDs to get in, he was thrown out of line because he was using an ID that wasn’t his. When people asked why we couldn’t go in the only answer we got was “We are following orders” but we weren’t told what the orders were. Several people were thrown out of line because they didn’t have the right ID (although there was no specification on what the “right” ID was). Finally a few people were allowed in. When it was my turn I was allowed to step in the door but when they asked where I was from (America) I was promptly thrown out. All of the Americans were thrown out (collective punishment). A translator from Mexico had his ID taken and not returned, he waited for 15 minutes. So, all the Americans and a few other people, who had their IDs taken to be checked, sat outside. We were yelled at and pushed and given no explanations. Of course none of us took it seriously because our friends were doing the pushing and we were in a very safe environment on the Peaceboat in the Atlantic. But it gave us all a small understanding of what the Palestinian people in Israel experience several times a day every time they have to go through a checkpoint. Apparently there aren’t rules for the checkpoints, much of it is left up to the whim of the officers and soldiers at the various checkpoints. It was a very effective way to put all of us in the proper mood to have a discussion on how to change the world. What motivation is there to continue protests when they aren’t producing immediate results? How can people who just want to live a normal life and don’t want to fight (like a majority of the Palestinians) fight their unjust situation? How can any individual help? We came up with a lot of ideas, some better than others (there were a few that our guests just laughed at they were so ridiculous). We do have a few that we can start immediately though. One is a protest we are going to arrange in New York. We are going to build the wall that is being put up in Israel and carry it around New York. Hang it from the Peaceboat during the UN Conference Welcoming Party. Take it to a concert. Make people realize how large the wall really is and how divisive it is. So, I guess tonight has been inspirational as well as educational.

Tonight I did Yoga under the stars on the back deck of the boat. The night was salty and humid. The stars were shining bright in the Mediterranean. As we did our cool down the moon rose out of the ocean, giant and red. It looked like it had been dropped into dye. The reflection shone off the waves in a giant line that led straight up to our ship. It was stunning.

Barcelona, Spain
Everywhere I go, music follows me. As I walk down La Rambla, take the Metro, sit in Gaudi’s underground forest I am always accompanied. All day I feel as though I have stepped into a movie. A beautiful foreign city as my setting, sunny and bursting with art. A perpetual soundtrack in the background. People break into dance in the middle of plazas, in front of cathedrals and on the street. Strange random things occur that are so odd I thought only Hollywood could dream them up. A man crawls under a stroller, sticks his head through a hole and pretends to be a baby in the middle of the street. Che Guevera stands on a box loudly expounding his theories for anyone who will listen. Flamenco dancers who won’t dance. The park we pass is suddenly filled with acrobats doing flips and tossing each other into the air. A giant temple that is decorated at the top with… fruit reaching toward heaven. But these aren’t a writer’s dreams or a director’s visions—they are my reality for today. I sit in the middle of one of Gaudi’s many unfinished inspirations listening to the vibrations of music echo around me, drinking sangria and wondering at how surreal reality can feel.

My mind has become a giant mosaic and I am too busy looking at the individual tiles to understand the whole picture. Small moments of time pass before my eyes, but I can’t seem to back far enough away to see what they combine to form.

My thoughts on a lecture
As a tourist you only take from a country and its people. We were able to spend time with the people in these countries and it became a two-way street.

“In each one of these children’s faces what you might be able to see is the future.”-- Petra

Catania, Sicily
Despite the fact that my great-grandfather came from Sicily to America, I don’t feel a strong connection to this place at all. I enjoy it, I want to come back, but I don’t feel inspired the way I did in Vietnam or Jordan or even Egypt (despite not liking Egypt very much, I certainly had strong opinions). Maybe it is too similar to home because it is a western country. Or maybe this is too short a time—Greece in 10 hours, Italy in 12 hours. All of Europe in 8 days. But I have managed to pack in a lot of things in such a short period of time. I just keep reminding myself that this is like an appetizer, it isn’t supposed to satisfy me, just get my attention.

Catania is a city that feels like any other city with lots of people and cars and shops. I like it only for the fact that it is in Sicily, which means I am in Sicily. I leave Catania as quickly as possible though. Taormina, Iso Bella beach, is an hour and a half drive North from Catania. I bought an Italian bikini and laid on the beach. I went snorkeling in the Mediterranean. I ate pizza and panini and granite and gelato. I drank cappuccino in a small café. I bought wine. Taormina is a cute quaint little town built up and down a mountain looking out over the ocean. It’s apparently a very fashionable place to vacation for Europe’s jet-set crowd. The beach is beautiful though so I understand why it would become fashionable.

Last thought on Sicily- I love how passionate the people are. After Japan it is refreshing to see so much emotion used in everything. The man who changes my money is the most bored man in the world—it oozes out of his pores. No man has ever been as bored as he is. The Gellateria people give me the most enthusiastic “Pregos” I have ever heard in any language (they most definitely beat the Irrashaimase’s in Japan). On our way back to port from the beach the bus driver gets into a scuffle with people who want to get on the bus but aren’t allowed to (no more seats). Not only do all 10 people trying to get on the bus scream and yell and sit down on the stairs refusing to move, but the bus driver and all of the passengers get involved. Everyone is trying to outdo everyone else in enthusiasm, anger and volume. I tried to join in with my limited Italian (“Tutto Bene”, “Delicioso”, “Grazie”, “Prego”, “Limone di Granite”, “Scuza”, “Pizza”) but I’m not sure it helps much. While I am not blown away by Sicily itself, I do love the people and can’t wait to go back.

Athens, Greece
A wind is blowing the robes that Aphrodite wears. They flutter in the wind. I am amazed that marble can move in such a way. Thousands of years ago men put their emotions, lives and souls into rock. Here I stand in modern times able to appreciate this piece of antiquity. The sun peeks through the clouds, the wind cools me off and I look up at the blue and white flag fluttering above. I try to imagine what this place was like before. Before the Ottoman’s invaded. Before the buildings crumbled. Before the tourists descended. I block out the voices and imagine I hear a bird softly chirping. The soft shuffle of feet and quiet whispers of prayers to the Gods.

Port Said, Egypt
At eery street we cross there is a road block with a police officer holding up traffic. Naively I ask if that is for our little caravan of buses. Everyone laughs at my conceit, yet the guide assures us it is for us. After a few buses of tourists have been bombed the Egyptians are taking no chances with their main source of income. We have armed police escort all the way from Port Said to Cairo. I should feel safer with so many guns protecting me, but instead I feel the danger more intensely. The idea that I am in enough danger to need protection scares me a bit.
We pass coffee shops with old men sitting outside smoking their hookahs. Women with brightly colored scarves wrapped around their heads walk to work. Police and guards are everywhere. Egypt strikes me as a dirty place, far far past its prime and kept alive only because the world is fascinated by the work of its' ancestors.

Cairo
Houses made of brick crumbling into eachother. Roofs unfinished and falling down. The Nile jumps into view. The longest river in the world, fed by rains falling in the far off Savana. Moving from Cairo to Giza across the Nile we cross from the City of the Living to the City of the Dead. And closer to the pyramids, my first of the seven wonders of the world.

The Pyramids
Huge. Massive. Overwhelming. My mind is surprised and can't take in the concept that they were constructed by mens' hands. Each brick is nearly my height. We laugh, take pictures, joke around and suddenly I am back on the bus. At the next pyramid we repeat. This time the added excitement of some camels. Then the Sphinx, but it's like a race-- in and out. Not that I needed more time to take pictures, I got plenty. But I did need more time for contemplation. I wonder how different the experience would be if the pyramids were treated with reverance. Rather than campes and vendors, benches for quiet contemplation and honoring what man has been able to create. I had fun, but I was more worried about taking pictures in our limited time than gaining understanding.

Wandering around the markets of Cairo afterwards I was more concerned with shopping than history. Suddenly there is an invitation into a mosque, which is happily accepted. The mosque is 500 years old and the upper floors were at one time a school for the Koran. Now the school, the rooms are abandoned and a thick layer of dust covers everything. We are taken through all the rooms on a private tour by an older man dressed in a robe sipping Chai tea. His smile is missing some teeth but he lacks nothing in happiness. He educates us. We go to the roof and then enter into another stone staircase spiraling upwards. As we climb all light disappears and we blindly continue, all sense of sight gone. Suddenly the light reappears and like being reborn we are bathed in sunshine, a gentle breeze and a spectacular view of Cairo awaits us. I am impressed by the sense of peace that permeates the mosque, radiating from the walls, conveying the prayers of 500 years. It’s the same feeling I get in every place of worship—churches, temples, shrines. They all possess a sense of peace and sacredness.

Standing outside in the cold desert air with a towel wrapped around me for warmth I waited for the day to being. Talking as I waited, I made a new friend. Finally, the sky changed from Indigo to pale as purples and pinks snuck around. And at last the lazy sun spread its rays, abandoned the horizon and rose. A sunrise in Jordan. Mysteriously stunning.

The Dead Sea is the lowest point on earth—400m below sea level.
With 25 children from Hattin camp we went to the Dead Sea. It was fun and touristy. We took pictures reading a book while we floated. We rubbed the mud into our skin. Across the Dead Sea we could see Israel. While all the people from the Peaceboat were playing, the children were staring across. Perhaps it was disrespectful, but I didn’t even think about it at the time. Only looking at the pictures afterwards did I notice the children looking thoughtfully into the distance while we played. Off in the distance there were loud explosions every 30 minutes and then huge mushroom clouds of smoke. We were all still a bit on edge being in the Middle East (and only 4 hours from Iraq) and loud explosions and military helicopters didn’t help. I never found out what the explosions were but we all assumed the worst.

After a few hours of shopping in Aqaba and the most delicious food ever, we went back to the boat only to have to say good-bye again. Sometimes I hate leaving ports. We get lots of people on for a few ports, we form close friendships and then we say good-bye with promises to keep in touch. We had to say good-bye to Dr. W and Fadi as well as 6 Sri Lankan students. Dr. W and Fadi were inspiring and educating. The students were just fun. They taught me about Sri Lanka and Buddhist art history and how to properly wear a Saree (because my first few attempts made me look more like I was attending a toga party than a Sri Lankan soree). We danced together in the sports bar. We joked around late at night next to the pool. They were so easy to like and become friends with.

Aqaba, Jordon
Once a stop on the spice routes. Boxes of apartments huddled low, crouching together. The atmosphere is thin and I can see far into the distance. The sharp desert mountains lying against each other present a study of browns and beiges. Although this is my first time here, part of me feels as though I am coming home to the desert. Completely different and yet it reminds me of home. As though making up for the simple colors of the desert, the sky is at its best. Bigger than any sky I have seen before. A cloudless brilliant blue, its color matches the line of Red Sea cutting through the rocks. The desert is stunning but the sky dominates.

Feeling full, excited, in awe, and guilty over lying to people who are nothing but friendly to me. I’m not supposed to say that I am from America, for the next 2 days I am from Canada. I don’t know if I will personally ever understand hating someone just based on their nationality. Logically it makes sense—they have had horrible things done in this region and, directly or indirectly, my country is responsible for most of it. But I can’t completely understand blaming one person for the evil deeds of others or even making generalizations about that person. Blaming or hating a country enough to take it out violently on individuals. I like to think that most people differentiate between a government’s policies and its people. The threat is the few individuals who don’t make that differentiation. Those people don’t wear signs though, and I am left lying to everyone.

50% of Jordanians are Palestinians (refugees who fled or were forced out of their homeland). Those who came in 1948 are full Jordanians with full citizenship rights. Those who came after 1967 hold Jordanian passports but are not citizens.

Thoughts on the Palestinian refugee camp Hattin in Amman: After walking through the camp (with armed escort), visiting some schools and a private residence, we split up into different groups for cultural activities. I went to the women’s center and talked with teenage girls. They don’t live in utter poverty the way images of refugee camps portray (honestly I saw people in worse conditions in South Africa, Vietnam and Sri Lanka). I’m not saying that there aren’t serious improvements that need to be made, but basic necessities like running water, food, clothing, housing and education are there. The upsetting thing about the refugee camp isn’t the conditions the people live in. It’s the fact that they are there at all. They want to go back to their homeland in Israel and aren’t allowed to. Part of the Jordanian Constitution says “Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and to return to his country.” It was posted in the school we visited (which is actually run by the UN and has a higher quality of education than some of the public schools in Amman). Most of the people in this camp were actually born in Jordan and have never even seen their homeland, yet they still want to go back. They still think of Palestine as home and Jordan as a place they are staying until they are allowed to go home. I realize that there are many, many sides to this issue, but visiting the camp was heartbreaking because it really does seem like such a simple thing to let people go home. Different groups did performances in a big hall—a Palestinian dance, Arabic songs, Japanese dances and a Japanese rock band even came all the way from Japan to put on a concert. It is so nice to relate to people on a personal level. To just joke around and laugh and not worry about politics or serious conversations. I think Dr. W was right in that the way to spread peace is to make friends all over the world. On western TV, Palestinians are always portrayed very simply as terrorists. CNN never shows the young boys playing soccer, the teenage girls worried about homework and painting their toenails. And CNN never shows the pain of wanting to go home.

Hattin Camp
Huge, warm toffee eyes stare up
They crinkle in the corners
As a smile beams below
A small hand shoots out
Taking my camera
The new toy is hours of entertainment

A hand takes mine
Challenging me to a war
Of thumbs
Kisses fall onto my cheeks
My hands clap a rhythm
That will keep beating in my heart
Long after the music ends

I entered fearful and uncertain
I leave smiling and determined
Between the laughter and games
I saw a strength and sadness
Sheltered in these people’s hearts
Injustices done
That I want to fix
And meeting them has inspired
A new motivation within

If I could look into the distance, peer just beyond the horizon Saudi Arabia would appear. I can smell the mystery in the air. If I crossed my ship and gazed to the other shore out of my sight Egypt’s pyramids would loom over me and it’s sands stretch before me. I am blindly caught between two exotic shores and am left with only my imagination to supply the images. I am so close, I can feel the energy radiating from the ancient lands, skimming over the brilliant blue waves and calling to me. I’m in the middle of a sea that was never true to its name. Floating towards a goal of what? Education. Understanding. Cooperation. Excitement. Adventure. In my cowboy hat I will explore ancient ruins discovering lost treasures (move over Indiana). I will play in an ancient sea that is slowly dieing. I will understand a problem and find a way to help. Under the stars tonight I am bursting with potential, possibility, promise.

Today we had a small, informal, all-English chat with the Iraqi guests. It was an odd experience. Dr. W is obviously in such pain from what her country is going through and what she has been through personally. Fadi, perhaps because he is a man or younger or his personality is different, doesn’t seem to let the emotions come through as much. We all started the talk by asking questions about the history of Iraq—who was in power before Saddam, is it worse under Saddam, what do you think of the current government, are the police going to be able to function without American support, etc. Fadi was answering the questions to the best of his ability (considering he is a linguist and not a politician) but Dr. W became very upset and said that the past doesn’t matter. She said it doesn’t matter what happened before, because she would never choose to go back to life under Saddam’s regime, but she also wouldn’t choose life under the American occupation. Comparing the two is a pointless exercise because they are both bad. What we should be doing is working to improve the current situation, focus on today and tomorrow and not look back. At first all the GET Teachers were irritated because we wanted to learn about the past. And I admit that I still want to learn about the history of Iraq, just so I am a better educated human being. But the more I think about it the more I understand Dr. W’s point—talking about the past, or Saddam, or what America could have done differently won’t help the people who are currently suffering in Iraq. Natalie asked her what we could do to help, because we all feel helpless. We come from nations that don’t listen to the protests of their people. We have no real power to stop the American occupation, anymore than we did trying to stop a war that we didn’t agree with. That is a much more difficult question though and not easily answered by anyone. Dr. W said that she came here so we would understand the situation in Iraq better, what the people are actually going through and so that we would see them as people. Form a human connection with people from Iraq. If you have met people and made friends with them it is harder to go to war with that country and harder to stand by and watch horrible things happen to them. But even having made that connection now I don’t know how I can help them on a personal level. It is frustrating to be helpless.

Everyday is an emotional rollercoaster for me. I teach classes in the morning—I’m happy and energetic. I attend a lecture on Palestine (or agent orange in Vietnam or the state of Iraqi hospitals, or something equally difficult) and I leave in tears. Then I go to a poetry workshop (or art class) which makes me nostalgic and creative. I lay in the pool—relaxed. I hold a debate workshop and am nervous. Yet satisfied and excited that it went so well. I stress over planning lessons and events. I drink in the sports bar and dance—happy, tired. Never in my life have I felt so many emotions in such a short time. Being so busy I also have very little time to digest everything that is happening to me and everything that I am experiencing. I think it will take months after I get back for me to understand and fully comprehend my life right now.

With purple incense
Wrapped tight around my body
I adopt Sri Lanka

My classes started and they are amazing! My students are really motivated and have great English. I'm a bit surprised but I like the older class (all retirees) better than the class that is full of girls my age. The older students are less shy. They give it 100%. They also have more life experience, so when I ask them to talk about themselves they keep going and going. They know lots more than me, so it's more interesting to be in the class.

We raised $1600 in just a few hours with the book fundraiser. It was incredible! Then to make it even better Le Ly Hayslip (a guest speaker) offered to match anything we raised. Today we went to the orphanage in Sri Lanka and brought them the books, the money and lots of stationary. We played with the kids for awhile and ate lunch with them. I think it is the first time I have been to an orphanage and so I really didn't know what to expect, but it was nice. They kids were all polite, clean and spoke a decent amount of English (not their native language). Apparently the nun who runs the orphanage pushes education and several of her girls have studied abroad and gone to college after leaving the orphanage. Anyhow, it was nice to see where the money is going.

Sri Lanka is interesting, and I wish I had more time here. I think in Singapore 1 day was enough to give me a taste of it, but 1 day in Sri Lanka is a crime! We have been wandering around Colombo on foot for the last few hours and it's busy and interesting, but I don't really understand it yet.

Bad news- The Indian Ocean is very rough and I got seasick again (for 2 days), but this time half the ship joined me in my misery. I'm told the Arabian sea is like glass though. Keep your fingers crossed.
Good news- I am going to be staying in a Palestinian refugee camp in Jordan with a host family. I didn't think I would be allowed to go because there weren't enough host families but they found more! Yeah!
More good news- I have been given a malaria medication that is not Lyrium, which means I won't be going insane. Yeah.
Other news- I have been learning to Salsa dance, gone to scrapbook making class, and seen dolphins!

We are hopefully over the insanity that I was just adjusting to. The last little bit has been crazily hectic and insane. We were interviewing students, picking their class levels, trying to sort them based on personality and then holding additional events in which to evaluate them. We did this for 180 students in less than 5 days. Incredible. I'm really happy with the students I have in my class though (2 classes of 6 people). I'm teaching at an Intermediate/Advanced level and it's going to be a lot of fun. I honestly thought they would give me beginners because most of my experience has been teaching children. I think that the people I work with are all about making you challenge yourself.

Yesterday I finally had a few minutes to breath and lay by the pool (ok, I only got an hour of pool time and I was forced to breath during it, but that was serious relaxation for me). Last night we had a rave on the top deck of the boat and turned off all the lights. It was wonderful dancing in the dark on a boat in the middle of the ocean. We were on the equator and so the stars were not only brilliant but in different positions than I have ever seen them. It felt like I was living in a movie once again (I seem to have that feeling often, especially recently).

Today I am in Singapore. I am drinking a Singapore Sling (a pretty pink cocktail) as I type this. Singapore is an amazing country. The population is very multi-racial. 70% of the population is Chinese, there are also Malay, Indian, and Europeans here. It is very mixed and yet in the last 20-30 years the populations have managed to integrate and find peace with eachother (there were apparently huge race riots at other points in history). We had 2 Singaporean students, Xiang-run and DeKun, who joined the cruise in Hong Kong and gave lectures on Singapore for us. They were incredible! I am very sad that they are leaving us in singapore. I learned a lot about Singapore from them and believe that parts of what the government has done could be a useful model for other multi-racial societies.

Singapore has been awesome! It is a beautiful city. It feels comfortable-- safe, clean, easy to manage. We went to Little India first and I bought a Sari and got a henna tatoo on my hand (beautiful). I also went to the electronics district and bought a Magic Disk (USB drive). All of the other teachers on the cruise have one and I have been horrifically jealous of them. Although I like Singapore, I think that Xiang-run was right-- Singapore is the kind of place you want to raise kids and retire, but before that it might bore you to death. I would love to come back to Singapore for a few days, but unlike Vietnam I don't feel myself drawn towards it. Vietnam, I could stay there for months. Singapore I could stay for a week.

Next is Sri Lanka-- I don't know the next time I will be able to use the internet. I am going to take cases of water to an orphanage in Sri Lanka (there was Buddhist Monk in Thailand who read my fortune and said I would have good karma if I donated water to a hospital or orphanage...). Hasta Luego.