Adjusting to Life on the Ship

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I once read that the Tzutujil Mayans of Guatemala believe that when you take one step outside your house, no matter where you are going or for how long; you are on your way home (Prechtel, M., Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, 1999). That belief has always rung true for me. It doesn’t matter if you are going to the store for milk or if you are leaving for, say, 4 months to travel the world. With that first step, no matter what you encounter or where you get side tracked to, you are already on your way home. I think I’ve adopted that belief because it doesn’t matter where I am, knowing that I am on my way home makes the world feel a little bit smaller and in turn I feel closer to my friends and family. As I crossed the threshold of my condo a few days ago, overloaded with both bags and excitement, I thought about that first step being the beginning of my four month long journey home.

While I consider myself a nomad and tend to always have at least one if not several trips in the planning stages, this trip definitely takes me outside my comfort zone quite a bit. I’m not sure if it is the length of time I will be gone from my life in the Bay Area, the countries I’m going to, not being able to talk to anyone from home at a whim, or the fact that I am traveling via ship. No matter what the reason, I regularly find myself on the verge of puking when I think about what I am about to do. Fun! But if one lives entirely inside one’s comfort zone has she really lived?

I have begun to meet professors and fellow staff. We will have a little over a day on the ship before we pick up the 600 or so college kids for whom we are tasked with fostering the time of their lives. It’s an interesting balance, being of service to our students and fulfilling our own wanderlust.

One of the things I most look forward to is unplugging. While I hesitate to say this since every time I have said in the past that I am unplugging while traveling I have remained in close contact, this time it is likely I wont be able to. My cousin Ruth pointed out to me just the other day just how addicted I am to my “crackberry.” I know that I am always reachable & connected in my daily life and like the idea of not being so for a few months. It reminds me of the time in my life when I was addicted to checking the time on my watch. Let me qualify this by saying that of all the things in the world to be addicted to, checking the time on my watch is quite a mundane one. Nonetheless, there was a time when I checked my watch an outrageous number of times in a day. It got to the point where I would look at my watch and not even register what I had just read. Literally. I would look at my watch and someone could ask me immediately afterward what time it is and I would have to look again before I could answer. It was almost like the looking that was the habit and not the actual accounting of the time.

I’ve reached it’s own iteration of that with my phone. I check the emails, text, and calls with a sort of distraction or lack of comprehension that causes me to need to look again a short while later. The extent to which I wont be in communication seems to be trickling in to my consciousness at a slow pace. First I learn no Skype. Then our phone’s connection will be spotty at best, even with an international plan (which I don’t have, by the way). Internet is slow as molasses in January (growing up in San Francisco I can’t really relate to that saying personally since our molasses moves at the same pace year round but I’ve always liked it so I’m using it). Then today: no Facebook. Ouch. While I am still reeling from that last bit – yes, I am devastated by my inability to post meaningless facts and pictures of what I am eating at every whim – I think this is going to be good for me. I sort of like the idea, really. I have exactly 2,000 minutes of Internet access/opportunity to communicate with my family. For a person so deeply connected to and dependent on (in a good way, hopefully) her community at home, this is gonna be a challenge. Another layer to the complex experience that is unfolding with every minute. For this voyage I walk alone. Well, save for the 863 students, faculty, and staff and +/- 150 crew that are sailing with me.

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Photos

The view from my cabin
That is a life boat blocking my view.... don't get me wrong - I am very thankful for said life boat. you know, just in case. (p.s. wasn't allowed to take pictures of the ship itself due to security blah, blah but will continue to try to get one)

My cabin
Not much smaller than my condo so I feel right at home.

My bathroom
Not much bigger than the one in the airplane out to Florida.

Comments

[D MJ Binkley]

This is an exciting adventure
We can't wait to read more ad we can't wait to meet you on your return. Enjoyed the photos of your cabin.

[Mark]

Sounds great!
Kelly-I'm sure you'll come back with added wisdom and more strength. I'm sure everyone you know is proud of you.

[Kenwyn]

Great photo!
I love the comparison. I'm sure I would have had as much other stuff, but I think I would have tried to squeeze on more clothes too!

[Chante Mouton Kinyon]

You get used to it...
Greg went through, is going through, a similar withdrawal of not being having his iphone. Not to mention, we're sharing a computer. It's been easier for me, though when I'm out and I want to look something up on the internet I do feel a small bit of sadness. Greg plots how and when he'll get his new iphone. Yet, I think those tics--constantly checking your watch, email, etc.--are nice habits to get away from. Keep it up!