Isthmus of Panamá: A Land of Interconnections

Among pristine, idyllic beaches strewn with starfish, coconut palms and tropical rainforests that buttress the white-sand beaches is the hidden secret of Panamá: a vibrant, dynamic country that reminds the world of its many interconnections. In a world constantly shrinking from the vast influences of technology, global trade, and modern travel, the simple reminders from nature and the ever-dwindling lush rainforests prove we are more connected, and dependent on each other, than we care to recognize. The developed and the developing worlds need each other.


Uniquely linking two worlds here at the crossroads of the Americas, the narrow Panamá isthmus spans a land full of biodiversity between two tropics. This land bridge between Central and South America, formed several million years ago, illustrates change and evolution at work, whereby horses, deer and squirrels flourished in the North continent, and toucans, hummingbirds, unique rodents (e.g., agoutis, capybaras and tapirs), iguanas and poison dart frogs developed in the south. In fact, Panama's lush Darien region now serves as the last barrier between all but flying bird migrations, including blocking the spread of the North American foot and mouth disease and a South American frog disease that is massacring millions of amphibians. With hundreds of islands and the famous archipelagoes such as Bocas Del Toro and San Blas (Kuna Yala), Panama is an adventurer's Paradise. At times only 25 miles wide, the narrow coastline holds back the Carribean Sea and the Pacific ocean, except the narrow land that holds the modern architectural marvel that is the canal.


Panamá not only teaches us about modern economies, but also Mother Nature and the web of life. Only roughly the size of South Carolina, Panamá boasts over 900 bird species, 218 mammals, including many species of monkeys, 164 amphibians and 226 reptiles! Ocelots, jaguars, and many species of monkeys make this land home along with crocodiles, Pineapples and yucca are farmed along the native coconuts and mangos. Barracuda and sharks patrol the reefs and crystal-clear water above angelfish, parrotfish, puffers, lobster and octupus. Yet with all of the brilliance of the wildlife in Panamá is the awareness that one missing piece often means the collapse of the delicate web of life. Rainforests represent extreme specialization of species, and contrary to popular belief, are highly unstable ecosystems that ebb and flow with time. Remove the frogs and suddenly snakes, birds, insects and an array of species are grossly affected.

Here in the land of interconnections with a healthy ration of Balboas and Panamian cervezas and seco, we found bonds and connections not only with Mili, Julio, Leonard, Sammy, Paco, Martín and the English "boys and girls," but in this land of tranquility, vibrancy and isolation, a newfound appreciation and lesson about how much we really are interrelated. Whether traveling on the close quarters of the "colectivos" (shared taxis) or hitching a ride on a water taxi between the far flung islands, the world, and Panamá, is much closer than we think. Insert a few blackouts, a crazy talking bird (la Lencha), some fruit chichas, fish and patacones, molas, and a lot of sun, and Panamá is a land of interconnections, fun stories and relaxation.

The Panamanians are well aware of a world of links and associations. A rich mix of indigenous and Spanish cultures, 65% of Panameños are mestizo, with sizeable populations of Chinese, Africans and West Indian descendents, such as Jamaicans and Trinidadians, who were brought as laborers to work on the Canal. Indeed, the culturally rich and mestizo population of Panamá know only too well the influence of meddling countries and imperial motives. Dominated and occupied by the Spanish for centuries and later the Americans, Panamá has only recently experienced independence. From the US-supported declaration of independence from Colombia in 1903 to the short-lived war to remove General Manuel Noriega in 1989, the US legacy is strong, with well over 6 other "inteventions" during this period. Indeed, since Panama's early "discovery" by Spanish conquistadors de Bastidas and Columbus, the country's more than a dozen original, indigenous peoples have witnessed many conquerers come and go. Panama city's Old City ruins bear testament to the city's history of ransacking and pillaging by English bucaneers such as Capital Henry Morgan, who made off with entire treasures. Rebuilt as Casco Viejo, and bearing resemblance to Havana, the new walled city prevented attacks due to the tides.


Interest in Panamá only grew internationally with the awareness of its narrow isthmus. The Panama Canal, first only a pipedream by King Charles V, now connects trade routes between Asia, North America and Europe. But the canal, initially constructed by the French, was not always the global, economic crossroads of the world. After French efforts were unsuccessful due to malaria and yellow fever, the United States helped Panamá secure independence from Colombia by gaining broad, sovereign rights over the Canal zone, including military rights. Now 4% of the world's barges, cargoes, and freighters pass through its two sets of locks at Gatún and Miraflores, serving as a major income to the Panamanian economy after return of the canal in 1999. Currently the site of a massive expansion project, new, deeper and larger locks are being built next to the current locks to ensure the future use of the canal, which competes with Egypt's Suez. Costing upwards of $10 billion dollars, the new canal promises to host post-Panamax ships, which are heavier and larger than the current canal limits.

While the American influence is notable and sometimes even palpable (see the American-constructed buildings in Cerro Ancón now used as part of the National Health Ministry), the land of Panamá bears witness to the world full of interconnections. The local currency is the US dollar, commonly referred to as the balboa, Panama's old currency now only made as coins. Over the past 150 years of American influence, the real economic pinch occured. On December 31, 1999, when the United States ceded control of the Panama Canal to the Panameños, 4000 lost their jobs immediately, and the US withdrew, taking up to $350 million in annual income with them. However, even from afar, the United States has not ceased to pressure the Panamanians. The United States is pressing for stricter bank laws in the country due to Americans "hiding" income in Panama to escape gringo taxes. Even money is connected.


Panamá teaches the world about its increasingly specialized and complicated web of relations. Like nature, each of us operates and creates our own niche in a world that is more and more complex. The first farmers, leaf-cutting ants, would perish without the fungus that grows on their underground forests deep below the rain forest floor. Cutting up to 15% of all leaves that grow in the selva, the ants clear paths to bring cut leaves 50% larger than their bodies to their underground lairs. Without the enormous thirst for exotic macaws and capuchin monkeys, the pet trade would not devastate the biodiversity of Panamá. One of the sad realities of wildlife tourism in Panamá is the fact that viewing parrots, sloths, and monkeys is significantly more frequent in the parks in and around Panama city. Faced with few other opportunities, locals eat and sell iguanas, macaws, and other animals to feed the insatiable pet trade in the West. Interior parts of the country have been scoured for these lucrative animals, in which money trickles down the trade to mere dollars for the original pouchers. While Panamá has begun to create more eco-friendly policies, they simply the resources to enforce many of the policies, and rainforests and Panama's biodiversity suffer.

Yet, for all of the human footprints of destruction, the rainforests represent the beauty and resilience of nature. "The only words that ever satisfied me as describing Nature," G. K. Chesteron once commented, "are the terms used in fairy books, 'charm,' 'spell,' 'enchantment.'" Despite an ever-constant stream of sweat trekking through the rainforests of Isla Barro Colorado and the virgin rainforests off of Isla Tigre on the mainland, the quiet intricacies and subtle beauty of the rainforests were simply breathtaking.

One of Panama's indigenous groups has been able to hold the tide against Western influences and a shrinking world of interconnections. The Kuna, well-known due to their distinctive dress among women, occupy the Kuna Yala in the San Blas archipelago. Now granted one of the highest degrees of autonomy in Latin America, they live in protected, shared lands called a comarca. Long studied by anthropologists and photographed by hoarding tourists, the Kuna have imposed land ownership restrictions and passed standard fees for photography. We visited Jesus de Corazon and Nargana after Isla Tigre, which demonstrated why the Kuna are eager to preserve their way of life. Isla Tigre, one of the most traditional islands in the Comarca, still remains mostly without electric, with one generator for tourists. Water is filtrated by a vast array of pipes that passes the water through coral filters. Other more "modern" islands such as Nargana, while without cars and appliances, host street lights and stores among the bamboo, thatch-roofed cabañas.

Until recently (late 1990s), the Kuna bartered mostly with coconuts (their currency), which they trade to the Colombians for raw goods, such as coffee, beads, and potatoes. Collectively set prices and with shared income, one coconut is worth roughly 30 cents. Annually, the Kuna harvest over 30 million coconuts, often on fincas on other islands. Despite over 400 islands in the archipelago, the Kuna live on only a few islands (just 48), owing to their deep sense of community and communalism. Local chiefs serve as advisors on each island's Ibeorkun or gathering house, large bamboo and thatch buildings in which villagers seek counsel. Traditional Kuna belief structure is based on three conccepts: god, nature and the cosmos. Songs and prayers praise the beauty and majest of the wind, the land and the sea, and rich oral traditions persist, often telling about God, Paba Tummat, and the Great Mother, Nan Tummat. Man and nature are considered parts of the same being, so the rules of nature follow human life from birth to death. True happiness and love, therefore, are only experienced within nature. Other traditions exist, such as when terrible Caribbean storms come from the East, or chosanos, one of the three island chiefs or village elders must combat the storm by blowing into conch shells. This call for help summons Paba Tummat, who tries to intervene and dispel the chocosano. If he fails, howling winds, downpours, and a nasty sea sometimes sweep Kuna and their homes out to sea. These storms are noticeable with a purple-black easterly sky, a lack of breeze, and no songbirds!

The mola, or in Kuna, blouse, has long represented the Kuna sense of independence and resistance. With origins in body painting before Spanish colonizers, the mola has evolved to be the symbol of Kuna culture. With geometric designs and images of realistic and imaginery birds, animals and sea creatures, the molas are handmade with bright colors and days or sometimes weeks worth of stitching and cutting to create the intricate patterns. In the early 20th century, when the Panamanian government banned the Kuna language, customs and dress, families continued to send their children to school in the banned molas to protest the government policies. In 1925, Panama granted the Kuna semi-autonomous rule, with local laws and customs persisting, including the mola. Today, 70,000 Kuna, with roughly half living on the islands and half outside the comarca, and tourism is increasingly becoming a part of the way of life.

Panamá, a name derived from an Indian word meaning "many fish," is really the land of many interconnections. From nature to the Panama Canal to a mestizo population, few lands know the niches and relationships quite like the Panameños. From the exotic maracuya to wild mangos to pescado entero and red snapper, Panamá offers a world of excitement for the traveler eager to embrace interconnections.

A Tale of Two Cities

The Ommegang is a Dutch tradition in Brussels. Literally meaning "walking around," the festival celebrates the joyous arrival of Charles V to Brussels with giant puppets, floats, and folkloric groups. The iconic urinating Manneken Pis, a small statue that has become a must see in Brussels, is even dressed in Medeival costume! And this is our plan, to celebrate the ommegang by walking around these two great cities--not in July as usual, but in January, battling the blustery wintry conditions of Amsterdam and Brussels which are tempered only by their proximity to the North Sea. This isn't Dickins account of London, but a story across the Channel on the Continent, a tale of two worldly different cities.

Amsterdam and Brussels. Only 106 miles separate these cities that are worlds apart culturally. Amsterdam, sin-city itself, where prostitution is legal, marijuana and other "soft drugs" tolerated, and trash litters the streets is the home of the eternally tolerant Dutch. It is a city that celebrates the greatness of the Dutch Golden Age in colonial times. Concentric circles of canals surround the serene, laid-back, and young city that draws every backpacker on their European tour. And yet, two a half hours by train connects you to a city that seems a continent away--bustling, cosmopolitan, clean. Brussels is the foil to Amsterdam's chaos, the clean-cut brother to the rambunctious, defiant sister. But hidden under these vast differences of the two Low Countries are the heart and soul of two peoples, two countries, two histories, and two travels.

The three crosses of St. Andrew blanket the city of Amsterdam above "cafes," bridges, streets and even the city's coat of arms. Although the exact meaning of the crosses has been lost to time, many historians agree that they represent the problems that have plagued the city, namely, flood, fire, and pestilence, since its birth in the early 1300s. The city itself, 5 feet below sea level, utilizes a vast network of levees and pumps to protect its citizens from the threats of weather, tide and water. The people here, ever aware of their fragile relationship with safety and security, seemed to have built their city of fun and rampant tolerance to enjoy every day, every moment, differences put aside. From saving their city from sinking into a northern European swamp to pushing back the waves of the North Sea, the Amsterdammers have developed a stubborn yet strangely permissive society.

In line with the city's reputation as the capital of sin is the Dutch reputation as the world's most socially tolerant people. In addition to the being the world's tallest White people (the Masai are the world's tallest folks on average), the Dutch have nurtured their calling as accepting of all differences and libertinism. Although not without struggles, the Netherlands has been a haven for people the world over, including Portuguese Jews in the 1600s all the way to Surinamese refugees fleeing their South American military dictatorship 25 years ago. They struggled with outlawing Catholic services in the 1600s (forcing services to this day to be held in community homes) and later with Nazi occupation and the forced extradiction of Jews to concentration camps. But the "dam on the Amstel River" survived and flourished from its small beginning as a sleepy fishing village in the 1300s. With regular influxes of immigrants, the city's population and ethnic restaurants exploded. Amsterdam, one local simply told us, has any food the world has ever made. The pervasive drug trade has flourished too and often challenged this status quo, but the culture has not changed. Along with its ethnic cultural richness, Amsterdam has become the gay capital of Europe. Gay and Lesbian statues, monuments (the Pink Triangle representing the past, the present and the future of the Gay community honoring the gay male victims of the Holocaust), restaurants, bars, cafes, organizations, literature, magazines and museums cover the canal lined streets, and the GLBT community here flourishes thanks to the culture of openness. Amsterdam has a bit of everything--Eastern European immigrants lured by the promise of the sex trade, pot pilgrims, experimenting youth, drunken travelers, art aficionados, gay ravers, and history buffs. No wonder the rampant liberal tolerance is known the world over.

Brussels, capital of Europe, home to NATO and the European Union, is the bilingual French and Flemish capital of Belgium. Here picturesque medeival streets hide cozy cafes but also celebrate the consumer culture of Western Europe. The Grand Place and other beautiful, historic squares border H and M stores and huge malls encompassing whole city blocks. Cobbled old streets lead you to guild houses from the first unions of Europe, and seafood-filled restaurants call you to their delicacies even in the winter with heaters under tables. Mussels, fries, chocolate and waffles are must-eats in this culinary city known for its seafood and desserts.

Born in 977, little remains of this historic city, which was burned and rebuilt in the 19th century to make way for a new country called Belgium. Few tourists stop here due to its modernity, but they are missing the quiet allure of the bustling "capital of Europe." At the time of our travel, Brussels was celebrating the Christmas season with artisan and food vendors lining the Medeival streets selling all sort of holiday cheer. Despite the cold, we strolled through the maze of streets among the beautiful Palais de Justice and the Grand Place. A beautiful Christmas tree celebrated the arrival of this season with a light show that brilliantly illuminated the Town Hall and the old guilds every night. 14th century city walls encircle all that is left from the old Bruxelles (in French or Brussel in Flemish), a small compact city center is alive and vibrant until 11 PM. We enjoyed a Belgian beer and some Belgian chocolate before we headed back to chaotic Amsterdam.

Even our accomodations couldn't be more different. The lush, comfortable, clean, spacious 4go2000 hostel in downtown Brussels was welcoming, cosmopolitan and stacked with all modern appliances and amenities. Meanwhile, the Flying Pig, a stop on every pot pilgrim's Europe itinerary can't be more laid back and hippy. Guests lay around on old pillows playing cards or staring out into space. What attractions have you seen, I asked a few folks I had seen around for a few days. Well, no tourist attractions, but a lot of cafes. Indeeed, a blog that does not discuss Amsterdam's drug history and legalized prostitution would be amiss.

In 1976, the Netherlands decriminalized the possession of all soft drugs, such as cannabis, hash and mushrooms. The tolerant Dutch discovered that users of soft drugs do not commit violent offenses for the most part (which is true around the world according to criminal scientists). Although the illegal black trade of drugs is dangerous and still illegal even in Amsterdam, users are classified as victims not offenders. This practical thinking about the use of the law, crime and jails also covers prostitution, whereby prostitutes are considered victims, selling their bodies to make a living. And so we come to the coffee shops and their non-cannabis counterparts, smart shops. In order to be discrete, coffee shops appeared across the country starting in the 1970s, with such creative names as the Grasshopper, the Canna, Pink Floyd and Stones Cafe. Since the sale of wacky tobaccy is illegal, patrons must find these locations through hints and ask for a marijuana menu, deciding their poison. With their free time, police and government authorities can devote more energy to cocaine, heroine and other "dangerous" drugs with rehabilitation programs and going after the big, violent pushers. Folks who smoke can buy up to 5 grams of pot, enjoying their joints on the street or a bar as police walk idly by. By the way, you must be 18 years of age! Oddly enough, when you consider marijuana usage rates around the world, the Dutch are the lowest (less than 5%)! Those Americans still rank number one (45%), slightly above the Spanish (34%), the British, and the Canadians.

Sex is also for sale in Amsterdam in the Red Light District, made famous by the women dancing behind the class "stores" along the streets. Since 1996, and supposedly worth over $1 billion US every year, the industry is regulated and legal throughout the country, provided you can get a start in a window. Health care, regular check-ups and a union are included! Window-doored rooms are rented to free-lancing women for 100-500 euros a day for 8 hours (imagine the business they're doing!). However, the trade is not without its problems, like the drug business. Recently, the city of Amsterdam took the European Union to court over the forced closure of 34 windows near the Old Church in the Red Light District. Not only has this sex industry been alive and vibrant for the past 5 centuries, but it also has become a haven for the Mafia, who ship young attractive women from East Europe to pleasure the Western Europeans and tourists. For women from Poland and the Ukraine, the potential lure of making it rich selling sex is a rich one, but a risk fraught with danger such as illegal human trafficking and dangerous, controlling pimps (often from Albania). Here in Amsterdam, you can find it all--sex shows, toy shops, and even sex itself. In addition, Amsterdam experimented with male prostitution but saw a rise in crime and quickly shut down the windows. When it comes to pornography, prostitution and cannabis, the Dutch are leery to criminalize common vices, especially when there's a profit to be made!

If Brussels is the melting pot between the Romantic cultures of the South and the Germanic cultures of the North, then Amsterdam is the tossed salad of all the worlds' cultures for Europe. The cosmopolitan, bustling Brussels stands in stark contrast to the chaotic, liberal and tolerant Amsterdam 106 miles to its North. Despite their proximity, we enjoyed our "Ommegangs" in both cities immensely. The beauty of Europe, and indeed the modern success of the European Union, stands and relies on the proximity, collaboration and triumpth of the myriad of peoples of this great Continent.

A European Winter: Christmas in London

"Happy, happy Christmas," Charles Dickens wrote in 1836, "that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fire-side and his quiet home!" Charles Dickens is to our modern Christmas as Father Christmas is to the English. To be here in London, a city that dates back thousands of years for the holidays, with family and lover is simply brilliant.

Dickens' 'A Christmas Carol's' characters Scrooge and Marley are as well known to history as Christmas in London. As winter descends upon us in Rochester, NY, the seasonal spirit awakens. Christmas tree hunting starts after Thanksgiving as we search for our annual White Pine at Wilburt's Farm in Webster. Lights and shopping and holiday traditions we leave behind with the wintery mix in Western New York in exchange for the holidays with Mom in Northern Europe. Who could possibly say bah humbug in this atmosphere in London.

Among the ubiquitous churches and museums is the quiet, secret history of Europe in the winter season--it's empty! Of course, the English are busy with the holiday hustle. Stores and shops are closed well ahead of Christmas Eve and the daft Christmas-Eve shoppers are out of luck shopping at the last minute in the United Kingdom. Fires are being stoked and the air smells of cozy, but plain English living rooms. Here at Charmouth Court, the turkey is in the oven and the small Charlie Brown tree is decorated with chocolates and candy canes--no candles of Christmases past. Happy Christmas!

Another highlight was the visit St. Paul's Cathedral for Christmas carol services on the Eve of Christmas. The second-largest Dome outside of St. Peter's in Rome is a fantastic setting for the talented choir to perform "Holy Night." Of course, Anglican services have been happening at St. Paul's Cathedral for the past 300 years. This great church, designed by Sir Christopher Wren after the Great Fire in 1666, sits atop Ludgate Hill, part of the old Roman city of Londonium. The strategic place in the city, near the Thames River and high above many parts of the financial district, give perfect location for magnificent views and Christian services. Indeed, Christians have celebrated the birth of Christ for over 1400 years on this very hill. We are but a small dot in the long history of Christian services on these British isles.

Other traditions from the States have European links. Mistletoe, the parasitic tree killer from Normandy, took off here in England during Roman times. They brought evergreens into the home during the winter solstice to remember the green times. During the conservative Victorian times, these mistletoe boughs were considered dangerous because kissing leads to evil deeds. Indeed, Victorian English would remove a berry everytime a kiss happened under the mistletoe, expiring with the last berry!

The Christmas tree didn't taken over until the German (Hanover) English royal Prince Albert, who married Victoria. The royal children were so enthralled with the candles on the tree in the 1850s that it became an instant hit in London. Boxing day, the 26th of December, also is a European tradition. Christmas was a day of giving, and the working class would go the Churches the day after to break the Alms boxes and share the proceeds.

Christmas cards are another London tradition, the first card designed and drawn by John Calcott Horsley.

"Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has plenty; not on your past misfortunes of which all men have some," Charles Dickens implored at Christmas time. The real history of Charles Dickens is masked by his colorful, best-selling Christmas stories. The son of a
Navy clerk, he grew up poor, and poorly taken care of in his own words. At the age of 12, he started working 12 hour days at a boot-blackening factory, pasting labels on jars with thick paste, and earned 6 shillings a week! Both parents eventually went to debtor's jail, and he became a reformist writer, describing the terrible conditions of the working class. For all of us in these modern times full of strife and at this holy time for so many folks around the world, may we remember this Christmas our blessings, remember the poor and less fortunate, and take time to lighten the burden of this world for someone else. "I will honor Christmas in my heart," Charles Dickens remarked, "and try to keep it all the year. "

Home is Where the Heart Is

“The journey ends, the traveler goes home, the book gets written. The result, the travel narrative, implies that it has fixed the place forever. But that is a meaningless conceit, for time passes, the written-about place keeps changing. All you do as a note-taking traveler is nail down your own vagrant mood on a particular trip. The traveling writer can do no more than approximate a country.” (Theroux, Dark Star Safari, 2003, p. 347)

Travel changes us. We go away for a long time, and we return different. Paul Theroux eloquently said, “You never come all the way back.” We have traversed the world across 10 ports, 3 oceans, 100 days, and 24,000 nautical miles. We left from Nassau in the Bahamas to arrive back after a gentle ride across the vast Pacific Ocean in San Diego, California, U.S.A after three and a half months. We have seen so much, the sadness of despair and poverty, our common humanity, the luminous and the mysterious. So much is hard to comprehend and make sense of. The clearing and warming air as we return to California reflects our processing of this voyage as we think back to our random adventures. Our return will be a celebrated homecoming with friends, families and well-wishers announcing our arrival at the American dock.

Our lives are different around the world. Despite the greatest differences the world over, there are many more similarities, as the old cliché reminds us. With different languages, customs, beliefs, behaviors and religions, it is easier to see the variations than our commonalities. But I savored in the humanity—the base human feelings and emotions that are what make us human. Over the course of this voyage, I swapped stories with the Brazilians, drank with the Indians, cried with the Vietnamese and laughed with the Japanese. Underneath our superficial differences, we are one people, one humankind. I tried to blend in and mingle with locals. Indeed, my favorite experiences were not seeing the Taj Mahal or visiting the Great Wall of China or even my African Safari in Kruger National Park, but the people I met along the way. The memorable parts of this journey around the world were the Olympic Committee men in Puerto Rico, Marcelo and Fabio in Rio, Mary-Anne and the Safari bunch in South Africa, the staff fun and craziness in Mauritius, my student friends like Cade and Heath in India, Tin Wein, Sanda and Johnny in Myanmar, Mr. Binh in Vietnam, my Chinese companions on tour in Qingdao and Hirohito at the baseball game in Japan. This is the part I will try never to forget.

Many of us struggle to make meaning from this experience. Where do we go from here? The hardest part is assimilating all of the information, the people and the places from around the world into a new understanding, a new way of seeing our lives and the world. Do we accept our meaningless small role in the world or fight to make a difference? What is the impact of a voyage like this? How have we been altered—our goals, our dreams and our lives? We must give ourselves time—there is no possibility of understanding the richness and power of this voyage in a mere 3.5 months. How much time will it take—a week, a year, two, a decade? Will we forget this bonding experience with new and old friends? How do we share with others who have not experienced and gone through what we shared?

Students are anxious about answering the “question” when they return, having a hard time explaining “how was your trip?” No one word can convey the meaning of the last three and a half months, but we all will try. The stories from this trip won’t come like an avalanche all at once, I explained, but rather triggered with a smell, a memory, a photo, a trigger, a spark. You don’t have to tell it all, I told some students last night, talk about the important, the meaningful, and above all, take your time.

Indeed this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. The reality is that the complexity of life aboard this ship and the adventures over the past four months are indescribable. Rather than failing to give meaning to this in-depth journey, I prefer to break it down to five major components: the shipboard community, the travel, the academics (and for me, the learning and professional experience), the people, and the adventures. Each component reminds me of the good times, the challenges, and the complexity of a voyage that will not and cannot be replicated on land. One student told me about his trip to the War Remnants Museum in Saigon, Vietnam. He was looking at a horrible picture of a soldier grinning as he held up the body of a child, blown up after an attack. “We never smiled,” a older American said standing aside, knocking on his hollow foot. The African American man was a Vietnam Vet who had lost his leg in war. “There were atrocities on both sides,” he reminded the student. This is but one adventure and story of the powerful learning during the course of this voyage.

The world is a busy place. Some of our problems seem so minute and inconsequential compared to the complex widespread issues that are affecting our planet—poverty, racism, healthcare, politics, freedom, war, hatred, etc. I will leave this voyage with not answers, but questions. I will continue my learning and processing, and someday, maybe one day, I will be able to contribute to a solution or two.

I have so many stories that never made this blog. I ask for my friends’ and families’ patience as I continue to process and understand. I know it will take time. All over the world, I tried to explain the complexity of Semester at Sea. Across language barriers, I hoped to convey the power of learning in and outside the classroom. But I’m not sure of my success. Indeed, I have learned so much from this trip, and those that know me know that I have an insatiable appetite to continue my education formally and informally. I’ll try not to bore you with the all of the reflections and recollections over the next few months, trigged by a smell, a sight, a memory.

“The future of humankind,” H.G. Wells said, “is increasingly a race between education and catastrophe.” Through education, the world may be different. We may inspire people to change the world, make a difference on this planet. This is indeed an educational voyage beyond compare, and I hope all travelers learned as much as I did about myself and the big, wide world. There are 192 countries around the world with countless languages, cultures, practices and beliefs. This has been just a tasting—a powerful spark and poignant reminder of the power of travel. Old reminders of this voyage will exist forever, like the smell of Purelle, the music from around the world, and the 1,000 pictures I snapped. Other reminders will be only temporary—the ship’s terrible coffee, the community college topics, the jokes that seemed funny on the ship, but hopefully not the faces and stories of students, adult passengers, staff and faculty. The old cliché reminds us that while the brave may die, the cautious never live. “You miss 100% of the shots you never take,” Wayne Gretsky said. For many people, the possibility of leaving one’s career, loved ones, life, and stable consistency is very scary—this is an opportunity that is out of reach for many folks for different reasons. But Semester at Sea has been an amazing reminder and experience to take chances, and for me, to live each day to be the biggest adventure of your life. Thanks ISE.

Life at Sea

Philosophers and the wisest scholars of the time used to believe that the seas were each separate and disconnected, like lakes between states, landlocked. Indeed, to travel to different oceans was to traverse land and deserts and mountains to reach different beaches. Similarly we are cut off from the rest of the world, except for occasional emails and word-of-mouth news of what’s happening in the world; we are equally alone and disconnected. See the world, circumnavigate the globe, this is my story and life aboard a ship at sea. Besides the romantic and different feeling about traveling the open ocean, there is a reality that is much more difficult to explain than those portrayed by the romantic movies about ships and the sea. Few others can claim the adventure of circumnavigating the world over in a ship, tossed around by the waves and currents. This is my life at sea. I assume that only at our homecoming will we then realize how much the sea and our travels have shaped and changed us as voyagers.

We are but a small dot on the map of the world. I can’t help but feel insignificant as we circumnavigate the globe. We have seen much of the world, but we have missed much, much more. As we travel through different continents, cultures and people, we discuss how insignificant our small lives and influences truly are. It’s almost defeating. To see the world as a flat piece of paper takes away so much from the power of these beings, these humans, and their societies and cultures they create. But when you see the creativity, intelligence, determination, hard-work and success of the students aboard this vessel, your faith in the power of the individual is reignited.

We pitch and roll at sea. Up and down, left and right. Just like a yo-yo, with no control. Indeed, it seems like the waves and currents dictate our emotions and our feelings. When the sea is as flat and calm as a lake, the ship comes alive with music and conversation, planning and reflection of travels past and future. At other times, when the sea is rough, it’s like someone has shaken a normally vibrant ant hill. People retreat their cabins to rest and take care of their sea-shaken bodies. We eat less, and the hallways are somber. Even I fell victim, who bravely but foolishly declared that I was not seasick this entire voyage. Until the Yellow and China Seas, I was medicine and puke-free. Indeed, we are the sea at its best and worst.

One of the amazing facets of life at sea is the journey between ports. The trends and the differences are alive—Brazil to South Africa, India to Burma, and China to Japan. Between governments, politics, food, and languages, the differences and similarities between people and places come alive. Travel by ship is slow and monotonous. Unlike airplanes that whisk us around on a moment’s notice, the ship is rather methodical and calming. The time differences change only by an hour at most each day, and we have time to process our adventures and plan for our futures. There is no jet lag between ports, only waves and time.

There are two amazing, perfect times at sea for me—one arriving at port, and the other leaving. These are my favorite times at sea for different reasons, one for possibility and the other for my fellow travelers and their stories. Each port, the morning before we arrive, I wake up before dawn to see the rising sun over our arriving port. As the purples and oranges and reds fill the sky above the bluest of seas, I am always filled with anticipation about the possibilities of adventure, culture and new people. A whole unknown adventure is hidden and we are curious to explore. Like past explorers and adventurers, the unknown and yet spontaneity of travel are laid out before our feet, a land undiscovered. No reading or planning can fully explain the possibilities or expectations. We are like sailors, who used to navigate their ships by intuition and feeling. In order to be successful, we must listen and follow the birds, gaze at the stars like the Southern Cross, and trust ourselves and the constant sun overhead. My other favorite time is upon our departure from port. Students, staff and faculty are aglow, full of amazing stories and experiences as they enter the gangway. The hallways are packed all night as we discuss and tell our favorite stories from port. We talk about the people, the history, the culture, the music and everyone’s different adventures.

On most days at sea, I watch the setting sun. On occasion I wake up for an early sunrise—the day ready with promise and excitement and the first burst of orange signaling a new day. Still, sunsets are my favorite, when the sky turns into an artist’s palate of bright oranges and red hues and purple hazes. An audience gathers each day around 6 o’clock or 18:00 hours to watch this remarkable show. Despite my greatest intentions, pictures cannot capture the grandiosity of the setting sun and vibrant colors on the horizon over the sea. No horizon will match the sea’s beauty.

We have crossed some of the most powerful and influential currents and oceans in the world. The rocky southern Atlantic Ocean, the two currents fighting for control on the Cape of Good Hope, the calm, serene and warm Indian Ocean and the mighty, vast Pacific Ocean, dotted only with islands here and there.

Time is an interesting and complex concept on our voyage. Not only did we experience 2 consecutive April 20ths, but we lose track of day and time each day. As we circumnavigate the world, the hours are added to the clock one hour at a time, meaning we have many 23 hour days and we are constantly seeking nap times. By nature of navigating east, we lose hours and times and indeed days as we move east back to the States. On April 20th (the first), we crossed the International Dateline in the Pacific Ocean, meaning we repeated the day for the first time in my life. I felt like Bill Murray in the movie “Groundhog Day.” Even worse, on April 20th the first, we were 17 hours ahead of the East Coast. By April 21st we were a mere 7 hours behind! We had crossed the International Dateline in the Pacific Ocean.

The sea is teaming with wonderful life and animals. Flying fish flee from the quick moving bow of the ship as it cuts through the water. They glimmer green on the blues of the ocean as they jump between crests and waves. Dolphins form huge groups, rising to the surface to breathe in unison on the horizon. On one occasion, while eating off the Deck 6 aft Dining Room, we spotted a whale. Three times it rose to the surface and spouted its great blow hole before returning to the depths of the water. I can only imagine the life we don’t see. Deep ocean depths of 12,000-20,000 feet hide the strangest and darkest creatures of all.

The M.V. Explorer is a marvel of a ship. The fastest passenger ship in the world, she is a world away from ships of the past. “Those who would go to sea for pleasure,” the English sailors said, “would go to hell for pastime.” Life at sea was profane and hard. They faced storms, lightning, freezing temperatures, fire, and sudden death at every turn. To be at sea was hellish: maggot ridden food and rum, dingy, rat-infested foul-smelling holds, and the greatest killer scurvy. Travel at sea has changed so much, yet the numbers of folks who have circumnavigated the globe have not. To circle the globe is as magical and unbelievable as it was 200 years ago.

The sea is still a world unexplored, like space. Research and study continues, and for my small part, I helped our new friend Dave on our trip between Brazil and before South Africa. He joined us for a short stint to deplore buoys measuring water temperatures and currents for global warming research. Currents, I learned, are as vital to weather, rainfall and our global health as rainforests and biodiversity. I dropped the buoy into the water like a dead body overboard with a student. Attached to a tire, buoys like this one are distributed around the world, collecting shared data for the scientific community.

We’ve passed over the Equator twice, the Prime Meridian once, and the International Dateline. We joke that if you look closely, you can see the yellow line in the sea. But if the Bridge didn’t remind us about these arbitrary divisions in the world, we would be none the wiser.

Science continues to develop, and we are wiser about our world. We now know the oceans are all connected, a vast sea world of unknown. While we live in a world that increasing smaller and more connected, the sea represents a world where there is so much more to learn and explore—an unknown realm with much potential. Like our arrival and departure from a new land, there is an indescribable feeling of excitement, curiosity and sharing in circumnavigating the world. Looking out from Deck 7 aft, it’s hard to believe the world isn’t flat. The smooth horizon looks like it stretches forever. One big ocean. One small world.

Starbucks: Globalization versus Localization

We often joke about how the Semester at Sea community fights to get into a Starbucks the world over. The Bahamas, Puerto Rico, maybe South Africa? We go to this example of globalization and the Washington Consensus not for the well-marketed latte, but for the free wireless internet, a consequence of having only 250 minutes for the entire 4 months aboard the MV Explorer (most students buy much more). Starbucks is a great example of the new world order. Once called “McDonaldization,” globalization and Starbucks are now showing Ronald how to get it done. After the Cold War, the one superpower, the United States of America, has maintained a greater dominance of the world not known since the Romans or the Hittites or the Chinese. More than simple military might, we Americans have developed and sold a “soft” cultural power and what is referred to as “sticky” power, in contrast to the “sharp” power of tanks and guns. The belief says that open markets and the bottom line will bring democracy and freedom. Nike and GM utilize cheap labor in the beginning stage of industrialization in such countries as India and Brazil; it’s simply one step in the process of becoming “developed” like the West. But the reality is mixed, in practice far from the truth where profit often comes before people. Indeed the world now has an interest and stake in the spiraling U.S. debt—a defaulting debtor would devastate all economies worldwide. Industries pick up and move factories across borders with ease and move to where the labor is cheapest. Some call this globalization an Americanization of the world, with McDonalds and Coke and Pepsi, Xerox and Kentucky Fried Chicken all leading the way. But there are many benefits to this new world order too. We have seen an unprecedented peace and economic boom worldwide in the last 20 years that proves the success of globalization and world trade. But look no further than Starbucks’ headquarters in Seattle, Washington, and ask, why are the people rioting about the IMF and World Bank? Why are people flocking to Hong Kong to protest? If trade and money and freedom and ideas are linked through world trade, why hasn’t everyone benefited? This is globalization in practice, positive and negative, and my reflections about this global 20th and 21st century trend. The deeper you immerse yourself in this debate, the more gray it all becomes.

Global trade in the modern world economy is based on comparative advantage. Consumers are the biggest benefactors of a global economy. Walmart and Target and many US manufacturers produce “low prices always” thanks to cheaper labor and lower costs that they in turn pass over to their customers. Were it not for outsourcing and moving jobs, we could face double or triple prices for anything from sneakers to pillow cases to clothing. But labor is only one part of the comparative advantage of global trade. Countries naturally specialize in one or many industries in order compete with the global market. Steel is a perfect example of changing advantages. For most of the twentieth century, the US dominated steel production with low prices and quality. But in the 1980s and 1990s, other countries have passed the US advantage, leading to US protectionist policies to protect this key “strategic” industry. But this only hinders the ability of comparative advantage in the world trade market and allows weak, inefficient industries to continue. Think K-Mart being propped up by the government because we didn’t like Walmarts on every corner. This is a gross simplification of global trade, but an illustrative one.

Bananas are a recent example of the difficulties of globalization versus localization. The World Trade Organization recently ruled in favor of the United States in the battle over bananas against Europe. Basically, the Europeans buy large amounts of bananas from poor Carribean countries and former colonies. Thousands of farmers are supported solely by the banana industry in the poor economies of these islands. But Chiquita and Dole, major fruit producers in the states with large and successful lobbying efforts and political connections, pressured the US government to enact tariffs against the Europeans for refusing to buy their bananas from these large multinationals. The threat worked, and the World Trade Organization strangely ruled against fair, open trade in favor of its largest stakeholder in the IMF and World Bank, the US. Sometimes world trade doesn’t operate fairly and openly, and bananas are a perfect example of government intervention and protectionist policies. Meanwhile, all over Latin America as the economies fall further down, millions choose the American dream over the Latin American reality, either legally or illegally. In theory, global trade is idealistic and functional, but is the practical, the real anything like the idea and model?

Indeed, the debate about globalization and localization goes beyond economics into the world of politics and culture. The plight of women is another example of world trade not bringing democratization and human rights to the world. Women are held in bondage by families and husbands for labor and families. Nowhere else is this more apparent than in India, where boys are taken to doctors, not girls. Boys play in the streets and learn in schools, while women do the work at home, doing the chores of the family all day long, beaten if they fail the expectations of their mothers. Globalization has failed to address the need to improve their lives through education and hope. Instead, knowing the potential of boys, families are large in hope of boy children getting better jobs and improving the lives of the parents. Girls only eat and sleep, costing large dowries later in life. Sometimes the rules of business do not carry over to the ethics of improving the workforce. But is this one goal of globalization? And should it be? Human rights is another part of the debate, because basic human rights are often described as a Western concept, not applicable around the world.

This debate goes to the heart of culture versus human rights, and part of this growing globalization is the debate about universal human rights.

Above all else I have learned this voyage is the interconnectedness and interdependence of the world and its people. La mesa de espanol convened each day to practice and learn Spanish, mostly with other faculty and staff interspersed with the occasional student. We discussed all topics, but one recurring theme was neo-colonialism and the modern political state. This is a small attempt at recreating one of my favorite discussions. Look at the world’s problems, one staff member argued, they must be left for the people to solve. We must not intervene, we’ve made so many mistakes over the past 50 years—Vietnam, Cambodia, Afghanistan, Nicaragua, Grenada, Haiti, and now Iraq. Where have we had a success? This isolationist view is becoming a popular one. Indeed, who are we to dictate to the world how to solve their problems. The world criticizes the United States for policing the world, Colin Powell eloquently said over a decade ago, but guess who gets called whenever anyone needs a cop. The issue arises with universal truths like justice and freedom and democracy—do we get involved when there’s genocide? What about hunger and starvation? And politics—that’s a whole other ballgame. The reality is that our actions and decisions have repercussions the world over—from our agricultural subsidies, our trade agreements, the World Bank, the IMF, foreign aid—where does it stop? The simple answer is it doesn’t. Whether we make decisions aligned only with our self-interests or the world’s well-being, our policies and speeches make ripples across the world stage. I am against war of any kind, but does that mean we slip away into the horizon? What do we make out of the mess of Iraq? Burma is constantly a topic of discussion—to go or not to go. The embargo worked very effectively on South Africa to end apartheid, but what about the regime in Burma. As long as the Chinese and Japanese are hungry for resources and the Burmese are happy to oblige, the US and European embargo is nothing more than a weightless piece of paper.

Feast and famine, this is an Earth of paradox. We live in a world where 2,000 people die an hour from hunger and yet the world over produces a huge food surplus. Technology and transportation are shrinking the world, and yet we can’t solve the problem of world hunger. War, strife, hatred and human greed get in the way of solving the world’s problems. Who will step up—governments? The United Nations? NGO’s? Individuals?

Outsourcing is a major bone of contention in the global economy. As consumers want lower prices and businesses want higher profits, labor is obviously an example of comparative advantage. Many countries like India, Vietnam and China are the new lands where service industries are moving for an educated, hard-working and CHEAP labor force. Many countries have moved beyond cheap labor, like Taiwan, Japan, and Singapore, as labor-intensive fields search for the lowest wage per hour. Bangalore, India is a perfect example of a rich labor market with millions of technically-astute, college educated, English-speaking labor forces. Per capita income in India is $480, but many US companies pay $200 a month or $2400 a year! Even more the cost of living in India is 1/5 the cost of America, so the $200 a month here is equivalent to $1000 a month in the US. On the other side, the nighttime hours take a toll on the Indians: digestive problems, high stress, 16 hour days, and a 60% yearly turnover. This “exporting of America” will no doubt remain a hot political issue in America now.

Another great example of the new American mono-culture is in Vietnam. Ho Chi Minh, affectionately called Bac Ho or “Uncle Ho” by supporters, has been a national icon since independence from the French and Americans. The government respectfully refuses everyone from capitalizing on his name. When a Vietnamese-American joint-venture partner proposed “Uncle Ho’s Hamburger’s” joint, it failed, but Kentucky Fried Chicken didn’t. The American business rep offered the striking physically similarities between Colonel Sanders and Ho Chi Minh. “No” the unhappy Vietnamese said, “Ho was a general.” This has not stopped KFC’s success in Vietnam—I saw 5 places in Saigon , a market McDonald’s has not entered. Yet what is the price for business and jobs, to sell out your history, your culture?

Both sides have their supporters, globalization supporters and detractors, businessmen and environmentalists. In reality, the issue is more gray than black and white. Globalization has both positive and negative aspects like any complicated global trend. One student was telling me how she learned so much more during this voyage because she abandoned her steadfast beliefs—she immersed herself in living in the gray she said.

While in Rio de Janeiro, I heard that Starbucks has finally able to break into the Brazilian market. The world’s largest producer of coffee must now fight for its own local market—Starbucks has been clamoring to collect the profits of a large coffee drinking population like Brazil. Or, even worse, many students complained with disgust (while drinking their Mochas and Cappuccinos) that there was actually a Starbucks inside the Forbidden City in old Beijing, a place closed off for 500 years to all commoners. For me, I hoped they have free wireless internet—indeed, maybe we all have a role and self-interest in the new globalization of the world.

The Paradox of American class

Students are shocked at the poverty, disadvantage, and classism of their recent adventures around the world. Many of the countries we tour are part of the so-called developing world, the third world countries, the southern hemisphere. No one can ignore their own privilege, access and opportunities after visiting a township in South Africa or a Brazilian favela. Yet there is disbelief when the conversation shifts to class and caste in America. Sure, they say, that is a necessary component of South American or African society, but not in the United States. Here, in many of the places we visit, the power and class are naked, undisguised and very apparent. Walking down the street there is no confusion about the elite and the poor, a visible and noticeable difference between the ruling, rich few and the struggling to survive, begging masses. But there are classes in America. They are hidden, beneath the surface of things, but they are ever-present. We need only look at the tragedy of New Orleans and a record-setting season of hurricanes to see the underbelly of class and race in the United States. This is my look at the complexity of American class; a lesson from the world, but about ourselves.

While religious freedom is now the part of the story and mythology of America, many of the huddled masses came not for prayer, but for money and freedom; the American dream that anyone and everyone regardless of their previous position in society could succeed. There would be no classes in America like the Old Country, no ruling elite, no powerful, monied and governing class. It only seems ironic that the Bushes are now a common name in American politics, a new dynasty. Yet there is still disbelief about American classes. Psychologists and sociologists call it the belief in a just world—that everyone sails or fails by their own effort, not by circumstances or chance. And Americans belief in this powerful tenet more than any other people in the world. It is both our greatest asset and our largest weakness—individualism and optimism at the core. The reality can’t be any farther from the dream: the vast majority of Americans will die in the class they are born in. Racism is a more subtle, hard to recognize influence, and therefore a past evil, thought by many people to be long extinguished by affirmative action and education.

So how do we Americans blindly disregard class in our country, but are quick to point out the plight of Brazilian favelas and Indian Dalit villages? How can we point fingers at others while ignoring our own poor? Gandhi said, “A society can be judged by how it treats its lowest class.” Several staff and faculty still talk about India. People on the streets on carts for getting around, others stricken with polio so hard they cannot move. Kids are starving to death in Calcutta, others forced to work on the sari looms of Kanchipuram. Class is harder to accept here, not even mentioning the caste system. Are these images defeating or stimulating?

I cannot convey the ultimate paradox of all. There are two worlds aboard our ship. We wake in the morning to have our beds made. At breakfast, wait staff bring us coffee and juices. “No need to get up, sir, I got it,” Marlon say. Is nationality the only difference between us and them? “Cream and sugar in your coffee, right Mark?” Almost by birth right, most Americans are given an education, a career, and opportunities, while the mostly Filipino staff are resigned to working 14-16 hour days to save for their families. At the end of this voyage, we return home to privileged homes and jobs, while Vibert and Ray, our cabin stewards, will continue on. This is Vibert’s 8th year with Semester at Sea. He has seen the two worlds, but like him, the crew say nothing. For 100 days or 4 months, he makes $3000. Granted there are no costs, but the benefits are small and the hours long. Fraternization is strongly discouraged—no mingling of the classes, passengers and crew. But what are the opportunities in his Filipino town—better, a slight possibly, but most likely much worse. But if Mezhraim and I switched our birth places, there is no doubt that our jobs would be reversed. Do we feel guilty for our privileges or refuse them? Is awareness enough or should we fight for basic rights for everyone?

The obvious statement is that poverty and class complex problems with no easy solutions. In many parts of the developing world, small local organizations and “banks” have offered small loans to fill the gaps of funding and support for ideas and subsistence. Small farmers and entrepreneurs are simply too high risk for banks and loan institutions to justify handing money over to, often very little sums and for high rates. Grameen is an example of this localization of banking, starting in Bangladesh. This small experiment began as an economic project with small, underdeveloped populations and has been suggested as a means for eradicating poverty in the next 50 years. Poverty still existing, and maybe is growing, since the Universal Declaration on Human Rights declared that each individual has “A standard of living adequate for the health and well-being of himself and of his family, including food, clothing, housing, and medical care and necessary social services, and the right to security in the event of unemployment, sickness, disability, widowhood, old age or other lack of livelihood in circumstances beyond his control.” 1.3 billion people live on less than $1 a day in the world. Until income and wealth are more evenly distributed, there will always be class conflict, always be revolution, always be war. A small wave against the tide of poverty sweeping the globe.

We’ve seen poverty with a different face. Poverty is harder, in your face. Class is stricter, easier to witness but less so to bear. There are no suburbs to run from the crime and the depravity of the poor. Favelas are mixed with rich skyscrapers, townships interspersed with metropolises. Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, an American might say. Maybe if they had shoes or food, I answered. I sincerely hope that this lens into the poverty of the world doesn’t leave me immune and apathetic, but realistic and inspired.

Can you take my picture?

No matter what we say about this voyage—this learning adventure—we are still tourists. We see the world through our own lens, buying souvenirs as proof of our recent visits. For most passengers, this is a life-changing voyage around the globe, a once in a lifetime experience, learning inside and outside of class. For others, and truly the small minority, these 100 days are nothing more than a worldwide shopping spree aboard a modern, comfortable cruise ship. But we have all our motives and intentions—our reasons for embarking this ship vary greatly. And so my goal isn’t to judge others but to take a look at modern tourism today in the 21st century.

Tourism is the largest business in the world, employing up to 10% of the world’s total workforce. Overall, 808 million people traveled across international boundaries, and this number is expected to grow to 1.6 billion by the year 2020. These numbers are down a bit since the biggest single influence on tourism in modern times struck Asia in 2004, the Tsunami, killing hundreds of thousands of people on the coasts. While France continues to be the top tourist destination and the Germans travel more and spend more than any other nationality in the world, Europe is no longer than most talked about place in the world. Indeed, tourism is expanding beyond the usual trip down to Mexico from California; modern tourism can essentially be divided into seven major categories according to Dr. Simon Hudson, a business faculty member from England. These topics include: sport and adventure tourism, ethical tourism, medical tourism, religious tourism, nostalgia tourism, film tourism, and educational tourism, like Semester at Sea.

Medical tourism is a new trend, an ever growing component of world tourism dollars. Cuba, South Africa, Hungary, Turkey, but India is the number one place in the world. Save money, take a tour of India and get your medical treatment all in one! Morally, I found it repugnant. Five star hospitals catering to rich Westerners looking for a new liver or hip while Indians die on the streets from hunger and malnutrition. For some reason, I was outraged listening to this topic in Global Studies. On one side, this presentation by Dr. Holly Carter, a sociologist, illustrated the education, learning, and expertise of the Indian populace. Doctors here pamper their guests with long stays and massages and great hospital food. Westerners find a great bargain here—packages with hotels, airfare, tour and surgery are one third to a half cheaper than surgeries in the States and cut the queues for the nationalized medical systems in Canada, Australia and Western Europe. Other folks saw the positive side of this newfound tourism—economic and infrastructure development as well as further gains in the Indian health care system. Most doctors, my English friend Tim argued, already fled to Britain, a brain drain that occurred long before medical tourism. But I can’t get past the Indian suffering, much of what we saw in the streets. If we agree that life, liberty and healthcare among other natural human rights exist, certainly the Indians should be the benefactors of well-renowned Indian medicine, but that isn’t the case. Instead Westerners seeking cheap cosmetic surgeries, “Safari with a facelift” one advertisement boasted, are pampered with long recovery times and four course exotic meals. On the streets of Chennai, polio and measles continue to inflict heavy wounds and pains.

Another new side of travel is the growth of tourist locations featured in movies and the preservation of sets created for filming. Generally called movie-induced or film-induced tourism, this recent phenomenon refers to tourist visits to a destination or attraction as a result of the destination’s feature in television, video or cinema. The huge increase is generally attributed to the growth of the entertainment industry and the increase in international travel. We visited several locations along the way, including Japan, the scene of Tom Cruise’s “Last Samurai,” Vietnam’s “The Quiet American,” and Beijing’s “Last Emperor.” New Zealand saw the largest jump in tourist numbers after Peter Jackson’s filming of the Lord of the Rings. Tourists came to see the Hobbit homes and look at the models of the White Castle and Mordor. New Zealand stumbled into their recent success, after they began dismantling the sets and Hobbit homes only to have more and more tourists asking to see the exact locations of the scenes. Now ropes and admission fees protect these national treasures. James Bond is raking in the money in the Bahamas. Each year, Stuart Cove charges tourists to have their picture taken underwater just like James Bond for with $500,000 in profit each year!

Consumerism is alive and rampant on our trip. Passengers conduct business on their tour buses—3 feet above their Vietnamese or Indian salesmen from the comfortable and safe environment of their air conditioned temperatures. Opening and closing the windows are a sales technique to finalize the sale before the bus abruptly leaves the hawkers in the dust. Some students unfairly see bargaining as a game, a win-lose battle to see who can get the lowest price. We compare prices, but in the end, it’s about the price YOU want to pay for the good, I argued. After all, I am not above buying souvenirs.

Sometimes I feel that I fall into what Dr. Jonathan Kramer calls “experience greed” and what I like to deem “backpacker bravado.” The reality is that we only have five days in each port—so little time to see people and places, and to try to understand the world. We rush around, whipped around in tourist buses trying to squeeze in as much as we can. One temple, two shrines, three battlefields—we are trying to get the best story. But this is not the point of traveling. Many students talk about the potential of sitting back—talking with locals in a tea shop or spending an hour in a local park. Another side is the ability to travel the cheapest and to mix in with locals the most. “How many countries have you traveled to?” In addition, how bohemian one can become is hotly debated among backpackers! Unfortunately, travel can sometimes turn into a competition rather than leisure or education. For me, it’s still the stories, people and memories.

Critics of travel education and tourism say that we impose our own culture and viewpoints on every place we go. George Orwell said it best when he commented, “
In essence, after circumnavigating the world, we have never left home. We eat to McDonalds, have a latte at Starbucks, visit a few museums and learn a few foreign words only to return with some t-shirts and wood carvings from around the world. Cynics have dubbed this world the tourist bubble, our cultures insulating us from the differences and difficulties of seeing the world in a different way. And Americans are the biggest offenders, they say.

There are many different stereotypes of Americans around the world. Of course, there are the obvious generalizations about wealth and cultural insensitivity, but Americans are still an oddity in many countries. English, Aussies, Germans and French make up most of the international travelers around the world, and most of my travel companions when not with SAS.

The reality is only 20% of Americans have their passport—proving the point that most folks from the States never leave the States. Many travelers asked why they have yet to meet an American who voted for Bush around the world. Who actually voted for him, they asked. I replied, almost sarcastically, that obviously you haven’t been the Midwest or Southern States. But honestly, many people around the world look at Americans with one part curiosity and intrigue and another part hatred and disgust. There is an envy of the economic success of American-style capitalism but also a disgust of American globalization, greed and multinational corporations. Many people are in search of the foreign; the local and mundane are not as interesting as the international. Indeed, many foreign travelers I met have traveled to more States than me! Others study and read about issues, problems, and culture in the United States and the complexities of foreign policy. “After all,” one Brit told me, “this land and people exert more influence than any other people around the world in the history of the world.”

As an American and recipient of the love, care, and concern of many foreign hosts, I hope my country shows the same level of respect and helpfulness of foreign travelers. But I fear this isn’t true. The land of the free and the home of the brave is alive with racism and disgust of photo-taking buses of Asian and African guests. We make fun of people who can’t speak English fully or understand the cultural nuances of the U.S. It is one of my most upsetting observations of this voyage.

There are also despicable parts of tourism offsetting the great potentials, including sex tourism and staged authenticity. In some places of the world such as Brazil, Mauritius and Thailand, sex is for sale just like the latest fashions. Women, and often men, are diverted to this trade as a lucrative alternative to selling trinkets or cleaning the streets in the more and more crowded cities like Bangkok or Rio or Sao Paulo. Staged authenticity is almost as gruesome to local populations, with governments packaging and forcing people to become more “authentic” and ancient in the name of tourist dollars. Many examples of this trend are popping up, such as the Burmese government forcing hill tribes such as the “giraffe women” so called for the rings they placed around their necks to become more beautiful, to dress up in costumes for the benefit of tourists. Indeed, many people may come to Burma and praise the government’s concern for protecting and preserving the local culture, but this is not true. Myanmar is also guilty of the commodification of tourism, such as the packaging of Buddhism into a neat package, easy to understand for tourists. Simply check out a few temples on a brochure to say that you completed the Buddhism experience. Burn some incense, bow to Buddha, and mingle with the monks. Commodification makes cultural concepts easier to sell, such as the picture of fishing for salmon is the commodification of Alaska nowadays.

Tourism is getting more and more outrageous also. Graceland is the most second visited place in the USA, surpassed only by Disney. Surfing the religious world revival and evangelical push in the USA, wealth Christians have even developed a religious theme park in Florida. This Holy Land experience allows for devout Christians to munch on Goliath burgers and Centurion salads while pondering the life of Christ. As adventure travel becomes more and more mainstream, bunkers allow for the “terrorist experience” with grenades and bullets raining outside the safety of your bunker. Other tourists arrange for war visits or set-up a “random” mugging. Anything in the name of an engaging, memorable if not transformational experience later in life.

The new buzz word in tourist circles is bourgeois bohemians. These are the tourists that are getting older, clinging to dreams and boasts of adventure traveling, but with the comfort and safety of an amusement park. And this is where the money is to be made. Baby boomer generations with disposable income come to be pampered as they kayak down the river while stay at a luxurious lodge and munch on caviar and salmon. It is a strange mix of adventure and safety. Another group, the backpackers, is also being catered to. Previously traveling on a shoestring spontaneously with little money, backpackers call home to parents to extend their credit limits.

Travel can also be thought as the diffusion of culture. While critics claim travel can be ethnocentric and racist, travel has potential to educate and change the world. With such negative terms as cultural imperialism, cultural nationalism, there are also possibilities for cultural synchronization and hybridization. After all, culture is a fluid, changing way of seeing and understanding our world, with beliefs and behaviors that are constantly changing.
We are on a voyage, not a cruise. We are sight-thinkers, not sight seers. We are a new type of tourist—SAS—and although we come with cameras and leave with souvenirs, there is so much more to our voyage around the world. Indeed, we come for an experience—something that may not be for sale after all.

Japan Incorporated

I have locked the gate on a thousand peaks
To live here with clouds and birds.
All day I watch the hills
As clear winds fill the bamboo door.
A supper of pine flowers,
Monk’s robes of chestnut dye—
What dream does the world hold
To lure me from these dark slopes?
--Buddhist monk Zekkai (1336-1405)

Zekkai represents Japan’s isolation and inward focus throughout its past, until 1868. A closed country with a fascinating past and unique character. Immune from the Mongol invasions all over Asia, Japan took its own turn. Samarai and donjons in feudal times. Mt. Fuji explosions, Shinto temples and life by the sword. And yet, from this unique background, Japan rose in the 20th century to dominate most of Asia before their surrender at the end of World War II. With millions of casualties and two cities devastated by the atomic bomb, Japan rose once again to become the epitome of a modern economy in the last 50 years of the 20th century. Thanks to an involved, enlightened and progressive government, Japanese relied on a government that took care of them. Japan’s governmental role is high in the economy and daily life; often seen as a loving, protective parent called Japan Incorporated. This is a story of a phoenix reborn from the ashes into the modern economic miracle of Japan Incorporated.

Brisk winds blew over the island of Honshu, and the sakura, eternally fickle, were in full bloom for our arrival. Cherry blossom petals danced across streets while the sweet smell withstood the dreary weather. Rain and clouds were the forecast for our trip, and indeed we only spotted the sun a few times over 5 days. We arrived in Kobe to a light drizzle and a land that is at least superficially similar to the West. Clean streets, skyscrapers, efficient public transportation, little to no crime, Irish pubs and Outback Steakhouse—Japan is a land of modernity. But scratch the surface of this efficient, clean and orderly society and you find a world completely different. Geisha in kimonos and Kobuke theatre performances. Donjons and samurai. Ancient temples and lightning-fast bullet trains. Kobe is famous for two incidents that will forever shape the culture of this thriving metropolis: the 1854 landing of Commodore William Perry from the United States and a massive earthquake that shook the stability of modern Japan in 1995. The Japanese were forcibly opened here in Kobe in the 19th century, and then rocked a century later by this harsh environment. Indeed, this is the Pacific Ring of Fire, a land of volcanoes, mountains and earthquakes.

If one could predict an economic powerhouse and the second largest economy of the world, even the wisest scholars would not choose Japan. Poor mineral and energy supplies, typhoons, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, few navigable waterways, an extreme climate with humidity in the south and freezing cold in the north. How could a country with 1/300 of the world’s land control 1/6 of the world’s wealth? Indeed, this rugged terrain and geography has shaped the Japanese culture and spirit of the people. It is a tough landscape where 85% of the land is sloping—great for scenery but poor for agriculture—and 4/5 mountainous. Compromising 1400 miles north to south (like Maine to Florida), the four islands of Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu and Shikoku support 135 million people. Just imagine California, a state with 36 million people on 3 times the land compared to Japan! The little Nippon level land, found mostly on the coasts, must cope with 3,000 – 4,000 people per square mile in the countryside. Furthermore, among the 4 islands of Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu and Shikoku, 2/3 of all the land area is on the island of Honshu, including most of the cities in Japan and most of the industry. And yet with 135 million, the Japanese are grappling with another issue, 0% population growth—a crude birth rate of 9, crude death rate of 8—and essentially a 0.1% population growth. This means the population is getting progressively older, restricting the shrinking labor force that will carry Japan into the 21st century and beyond.

The Japanese are one of the most homogenous and isolated cultures in the world, and yet welcomed Semester at Sea visitors with open hands. Random people on the streets practiced their English while others randomly proffered map assistance without any request. Over hearty bowls of ramen, I shared small tables, and fellow diners poured beer and sake for me (it’s considered greedy to pour your own).

I visited more temples in Japan than possibly any other land in the world. The interesting mix of Shintoism and Buddhism is alive and ancient in Nippon. Most Japanese practice aspects and rites from both religions, fused together through the centuries. Shinto, or “the way of the gods,” is the only true Japanese bred religion, believing in a pantheon of gods who represent elements of the natural world. A devout Shintoist may worship the spirit of a waterfall or a unique rock because Shinto holds thousands of deities holy, including local spirits, global gods and goddesses. Buddhism, much larger with over 90 million adherents, practice ancestor reverence and believe in a group of gods as well, including Buddha, Kannon (goddess of mercy), and Jizo (patron of travelers, children and the unborn). In contrast to Shintoism, Buddhists believe they must strive to live lives of virtue and wisdom in order to find peace and enlightenment.

With only two days to prepare for Japanese culture, I was playing catch-up with many of the cultural customs. For example, it is improper to walk and eat at the same time. Rather eating is a cultural custom that must be respected with time and focus. At the same time, loyalty, closeness and respect are important values, with selfishness considered the greatest character flaw. The group is also held extremely high, meaning that people must think of others and the members of their circle. In practice, this means watching what you say, taking care to avoid uncomfortable conflicts and apologizing at the slightest misunderstanding, even when it’s not your fault.

I based my time in Japan in Kyoto and the west Kansai region. With a Japanese Rail Pass and unlimited travel by train in this region four days (50$), I went to historic Kyoto, modern Osaka, cosmopolitan Kobe, peaceful Nara and the castle-dominated city, Himeji. Staying at K’s House Kyoto, a modern, welcoming and warm hostel near the Kyoto station, I traveled with a mix of English, Japanese and Aussies. We visited the Gold and Silver Temples with beautiful Japanese gardens (there are 4 kinds), and smelled the cherry-blossoms sprinkled around the White-Egret Castle, one of the best preserved and least distorted from the past in all of Japan. But compared to China and Vietnam, Japan was expensive, comparative to Western Europe and South Africa. I budgeted my money, eating sometimes at the Supermarket or our fun hostel to save money in between fast trains and efficient buses. While based in Kyoto, I utilized the methodical train schedule to make day trips to Nara full of wild and friendly deer, Osaka with its skyscrapers, Himeji’s Mt. Shosha, and Kobe’s restaurant scene.

While I slurped lots of ramen all over Honshu for its cheap, filling noodles, there was so much more to Japanese cuisine. Most restaurants specialize in one food, like sushi or yakitori, with plastic foods outside in the window showcasing the dishes for sale. Part of the fun of traveling Japan was the nihon ryori or Japanese cuisine. In addition to the well known Japanese staples Miso, Tofu, and Shoyu (soy sauce), washoku (Japanese dishes) include rice and noodles. Sushi and sashimi are served on conveyer belts (kaiten-zushi) with sake or beer. No sushi can compare with some of these delicacies. I also tried out Yakitori (skewers of grilled chicken and veggies) and, of course, tempura and ramen. I slurped udon and soba with the Ramen over Kirin and Asahi beers, which are even dispensed in vending machines.

One afternoon I ventured over to Japan’s oldest stadium, Koshien, near Osaka, for a Tigers game. Introduced to Japan in 1873, the game became popular in 1934 after Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig made a stop in town. Baseball is extremely popular in Japan, and culturally, very different. While talented national players like Nomo and Matsui head to the States, fans fill stadiums back home in Kobe, Osaka and Tokyo. Koshien was built in 1924 as Japan’s first stadium with 55,000 seats. Lucky and Lucky 2 are two mascots, who sing before and after the game with dances and chants. A huge jumbo-TV screen zooms in for replays, and as quite possibly the only White fan in the audience, I was proud to be broadcast to the Japanese jumbo-screen—large and live! I snacked on fried squid, curry rice and hot sake to warm my body on this cool spring day. The audience brought all kinds of gear including bats they used to cheer on their favorite players and chant. I only caught a few cheers, at least the one in English for the American player Andy. Oddly, there was also a sign that advertised no waves, a fact that my friend Hioshi reminded me of repeatedly during the game. Balloons were let off during the 7th and 9th innings, sharing among the crowd. Overall, the game was great—the home team Tigers won 7-0, and the pitcher earned a spot in history with his 1,000th strike-out. Everyone celebrated.

I tried another Japanese custom going to Arima Onsen, a natural and famous (one of three that are popular with the Japanese, although there are public baths all over Japan) natural hot springs outside of Kobe. Although I was worried about my tattoo (frowned upon in Japan due to the connection with the yakuza or Japanese mafia and ties to criminals), I bathed in the ritual hot springs with other Japanese men. The outstanding hot water was invigorating and relaxing, but I could only stay in for 20 minutes, unlike the Japanese who regularly bathe for over an hour.

Women have an interesting role in Japan. Long considered second-class citizens, the mountain is beginning to move more recently. While women have as many rights on paper as men, including owning property, obtaining a first-rate education, acquiring a divorce and running for political office, they have experienced discrimination with rigid gender roles for hundreds of years. Here the promised rights exceed the real human rights, and the workplace remains the land of men. The Japanese government has taken steps to address the inequalities, and recently passed the Basic Law for Gender Equality in 1999 to create a true exercise of rights. Life is slowly changing for the better, including more women in the Diet (10), or national parliamentary body.

Most of us have heard the stories of the samurai and feudal Japan. This is the time of honor and loyalty and the 47 Ronin. A ronin or wanderer was a samurai that was made masterless either by dismissal or execution or demotion of his lord, but the 47 Ronin was a poignant story about the virtue of samurai and Japanese society. In 1701, Asano Naganori, a lord of Ako in Harima was insulted by Kira Yoshinaka, the shogun’s chief of protocol. Asano had drawn his sword in the shogun’s castle, a capital offense and grave error. Forced to commit seppuku or ritual suicide, his land was confiscated from his family. Forty-seven of his samurai were masterless and vowed revenge by killing Kira. After two years of hiding their intent and pretending to live a life of dissipation, they attacked and killed Kira during an unguarded moment. They placed his head on their lord’s grave before they were ordered to kill themselves for having taken the law into their own hands. Loyalty beyond all else.

Japan’s greatest success and proudest accomplishment is the economic miracle of the 20th century. After 200 years of complete isolation from the outside world, the Japanese were thrust onto the global stage last century with amazing speed. The world’s second largest economy in the world (behind the Americans) since the 1980s, Japan’s economic machine is recovering from a recent recession. Proof of the Japanese success is the world’s largest car company, Toyota, recently passing GM for the first time in history. Unlike their American counterparts, Toyota is showing a tremendous profit, producing over 9 million cars this year. Toyota, like other Japanese cars and film products, are ubiquitous in most cities of the world. With the rapid pace of economic growth, there have also been consequences for modern Japan. The economic bubble burst in the late 1990s when the real estate market took a random turn for the worst. Also, the low birth rate of 1.27 (compared to 2.25 in the US) means that the Japanese must either embrace higher immigration like the US or continue to age and live with a shrinking population. With a homogenous population, there is much internal criticism about the intense focus on economic growth and the low quality of life. Education is the most important part of life for most Japanese, and entrance exams are almost unbelievably competitive. There are no hobbies and there is a lot of family pressure to succeed through education. When asked what studying abroad students from Japan do in the United States, our interport lecturer added, they say they don’t know. Studying is often the only hobby for young Japanese. Finally, Japan is also opening up, sending students outside of the archipelago to make contact with other cultures, languages and peoples. Indeed, programs like the Peace Corps and Japanese exchange programs may prevent wars like those from the bloody 20th century.

The Bomb continues to haunt and strangely positively influence the character and culture of Japan. In Global Studies, a poet and a historian debated the ethical use of the greatest weapon the world has ever created and used. War is terrible in any form and we cannot erase the deeds of the past, but many experts like Dr. Charles Carlton argue that Truman’s decision to exploit and harness the atomic bomb’s power saved more lives all around, Allied and Japanese lives. Based on Japanese information, the Japanese military thinkers believed the US would not invade, and that the “great peace-maker” Stalin would swoop in to save the day. But Hirohito could not be more wrong. Stalin the blood-thirsty. Stalin the murderer. But never Stalin the olive-branch bearer. The Russians and the Americans were readying for an all-out invasion to Honshu while the Japanese planned the defense of their island. Immediately preceding Japan’s unconditional surrender, the Russians declared war, preparing troops in the north. The bomb was dropped in Hiroshima and instantly, 250,000 were dead. But the bombs wiped away the horrible Japanese war offences including medical testing on prisoners of war, terrible use of gases, and gross injustices to the Geneva war accords. In one foul sweep, the Japanese were victims, not offenders. All memory of their invasion and conquering of Asia was forgotten, and the West set about repairing and rebuilding. Massive loans from the US following occupation helped to develop the Japanese economy into a export-oriented, labor-intensive economy that build key industries such as cameras (Canon, Fuji and Nikon), cars, and other industries. Indeed, our Japanese interport lecturer attributed the love of American culture and people to the generosity of the American dollars following a terrible war.

Japan Incorporated is a remarkable state—clean, efficient, and orderly. Our trip has effectively come to an end as we are welcomed to the Pacific Ocean and spring. The sakura were in full bloom to signal our arrival to Japan, and the people were equally as warm and welcoming as any people the world over.