When Your Ship Sails Away

And so it ends.

I began planning for Semester at Sea in January of 2014. For an entire year I researched, read, studied, compared, reserved, and planned for our trip.  I watched documentaries about the Vietnam war.  I read stories of survival during the days of the Khmer Rouge.  I read part of Nelson Mandela's The Long Walk.  I bought Pepto Bismol, headlamps, ear plugs, water bottles, shampoo, peanut butter, antibiotics, sunscreen, and way too much chapstick for some reason.  But most of all, I dreamed.

I dreamed of what it would be like to visit the dark ruins of Angkor Wat in Cambodia.  I dreamed of finally setting foot in India, a place I had always longed to visit.  I dreamed of facing a great white shark in icy waters. I dreamed of pho soup in Vietnam, temples in Myanmar, and red sand dunes in Namibia.  I dreamed of life on a ship -- high waves, sunsets, seasickness, and weeks without any land in sight.  I dreamed for an entire year before I ever even packed my bags to go.

In many ways, my dreams came true, often better than I imagined.  I saw where the atomic bomb fell on Hiroshima, but I also saw Sadako's tiny paper cranes she folded with her dying hands.  Angkor Wat and Angkor Thom moved me to the core with their grand and beautiful shapes.   I crawled through the Cu Chi tunnels not alone, but with Viet Cong sympathizers, who also happened to be my friends.  I ate dumplings in Shanghai, with a dear friend who had spent Christmas with us years before. I climbed Lion's Head in South Africa at sunset watching Cape Town twinkle below my feet.  I worshiped with blacks and whites on Easter Sunday in Namibia.  I ate sublime curries and paratha on the coast of India while the warm breezes ruffled my hair.  My dreams came true and then some.

While seeing the world was better and more wonderful than I imagined, another surprise along the way made my trip unforgettable: the people.

Traveling on a ship with 900 people is crazy fun.... particularly when you're an extrovert.  The first day I came on board, I was on page 12 of a new book.  A few days later,  Sydney asked what page I was on.  I said,"I think I'm on page 8." She said,"You're going backward?!" I never read another page.

Kerry asked me one day, "Do you even remember how to read?"  He mocked what he did not understand.  You see, when you're an extrovert whose normal days consist of homeschooling 3 children, and you have a chance to be with 900 adults every single day from morning until night, this is no time to read!

The community on the ship was just as important to us as the countries we were visiting.  This is what sets Semester at Sea apart.  You are traveling with fascinating people who share an interest in growing, learning, and enjoying the world.  The same people with whom I ate, played Scrabble, worked out, discussed issues, worshiped, and traveled became my friends.  Lifelong friends.  You don't go through such formative experiences together without forging bonds. We became family.

As my friend said, "I didn't forget that we saw the world, but we saw it together. And that's what made it so special."

And now Semester at Sea is in the rear view mirror. 

As I was opining about the end of this dream, something important occurred to me. Our whole family went on this trip, and we all came home. It could have been different. With a few short-lived exceptions, we were all healthy and able to participate in all aspects of the trip. We had nothing lost or stolen. The one bag the kids forgot (in a car rental place in Cape Town) contained only bathing suits, a $4 beach towel, and a couple of t-shirts. Indeed, it could have been very different.

And while some might call it good luck or say the universe was smiling on us, I believe there was something else in play.  God.  He was with us every step of the way. He sent us out, guided us, protected us, led us, and brought us home. 

One of the last nights on board, when the ship was plowing through the waters off the coast of Spain, I couldn't sleep.  I was trying to figure out how one goes back to grocery shopping and doing dishes after sailing around the world.  And I was scared.  Scared of my dream being in the rear view mirror.

Then God spoke to me. Not in an audible voice, though I wouldn't put it past him. God reminded me that the same One who guided my steps all the way around the world, isn't going anywhere.  He's going to keep guiding me at home, in my neighborhood, and maybe (hopefully) to some far flung place again one day. God will still be my constant horizon even when I'm on land.  And with that important thought, I was finally able to fall asleep.

And as if to underscore his point, just one day before we docked in Southampton, England, we saw the most vibrant double rainbow I've ever seen. It was so close, it looked like you could reach out and touch it.  But the most amazing part was that you could see it so perfectly in the water, it looked like a complete circle. A giant, glowing, vibrant rainbow circle welcoming us to England, our final port of call.  It was so spectacular, they even made an announcement on the loud speaker, urging everyone to go to the back of the boat to see it.

When I saw it I immediately thought of the description of heaven and the throne of God.  Revelation 4 says: "There before me was a throne in heaven with someone sitting on it.  And the one who sat there had the appearance of jasper and ruby.  A rainbow that shone like an emerald encircled the throne." And to further complete the picture, it says, "In front of the throne there was what looked like a sea of glass, clear as crystal." I'm telling you, that rainbow almost brought me to tears.  It felt like a glimpse of heaven, a foretaste of another circular rainbow by a crystal sea.  

Yes, God will be with me every step of the way. And with him, the end of one adventure just means the beginning of the next one.

P.S. I want to say a special thank you to those of you who followed our journey these past four months.  By reading our blog and looking at our pictures, by commenting and letting us know you knew where we were, you gave us a great gift. We knew you cared.  Even in the middle of the sea, we felt connected to you.  Thank you for remembering us. 

Ah, our Last Port of Call -- England

Jolly Old England

Our last port of call was closest to home in many ways, but we came to England with new eyes.  Austin's first words as we entered a shop were, "Can you bargain here?" Sydney asked if we could drink the water.  Charlie wanted to know the exchange rate and was disappointed to learn one dollar only equals .66 of a British pound.  Indeed, when he checked the price of a chupachup lollipop, it was a whopping $1.50!  He said sadly, "The good ole days are over." Yes, gone were the days of 1 rupee lollies.

We were met in London by our wonderful friend, Samantha Evens.  We first met Sam in 2009 when Kerry and I hiked the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu in Peru.  Sam was in our group of trekkers, and we bonded at the end in the brown waters of Aguas Calientes.  Four years later, when we were visiting Petra in Jordan, Samantha facebooked me to tell me she was in Israel.  The next day we met serendipitously in front of the Western Wall in Jerusalem.  That was the first time we met her boyfriend, Jake. The next year, Jake brought Sam to Washington, DC, as a surprise for her 30th birthday, and we spent an amazing week together.  So, it was fitting, that just one year later, we would meet up with Sam and Jake in London and get to stay with them in their adorable new house.

The first thing we did was go up the London Eye to get an overview of the city.  London is truly massive and beautiful.  We then walked over to Westminster Cathedral and then to a wonderful Mexican restaurant for our first real guacamole in four months!

Sam and Jake live in Crystal Palace which was the site of the Great Exhibition in 1851 where an enormous glass structure was built.  The palace is gone today, but the neighborhood still sits on top of a sprawling hill overlooking London with beautiful homes, gardens, and a wonderful park that goes for miles.  We spent some time navigating the park's maze and racing to the center. Kerry won.  After a tasty burger at traditional pub, we headed to the British Museum. 

The treasures of the British Museum looked surprisingly familiar to us.  After all, Britain colonized nearly half of the countries we visited on our trip.  In the museum, we enjoyed the best of the whole world under one roof.  The only consolation of this plunder was that these treasures might have been destroyed if not amassed by the British.  Now they will live on forever.  We recognized many of the beautiful artifacts from around the world:  masks and drums from Africa, jade combs from Japan, Chinese vases, Indian sculptures and paintings, even Roman mosaics like those we just saw on the ground in Morocco.  The kids were also mesmerized by the mummies from Egypt, even tiny cat mummies!

On our way home to Crystal Palace, we stopped at one of Sam and Jake's favorite Indian restaurants.  Oh, our tummies were so happy to taste authentic curries and naan again! 

Our last day in London included a wonderful Beefeater tour of the Tower of London. (Or, as Sydney noted, if the Beefeaters became vegan, they could be called Bee Feeders.)  With the buzz of the royal baby about to be born, we surveyed the place where so much British history has taken place.  All of us were mesmerized by the Crown Jewels.  Even the boys stood in awe of the giant egg-shaped diamond in the king's scepter!

We then stopped off at Borough Market for the best street food we've ever tasted!  We enjoyed German bratwurst, Chinese gyoza and fried udon noodles, Indian aloo gobi, and French chocolate cookies.  Come to think of it, you don't have to go around the world... just go to London!  We topped off our day with a visit to Shakespeare's Globe Theater and the Tate Museum of Modern Art, where we analyzed the Picasso and Dali paintings.  Sam treated us to a delicious barbecue before we played a rousing game of Loot and went to bed.

Saturday morning we headed north to Oxford where we met our dear friends, the Ramsden family, at the Turf Tavern for a great pub lunch and a lovely tour of Oxford.  Michael and Anne have lived in Oxford for years, and they gave us an insider's look at this magical place.  My favorite stop was outside a church where it is said C.S. Lewis worshiped.  As you walk out of the church doors, there is another door across the way with a lion's head knocker.  On either side of it, are two gold fawns carved into the wood. And just to the right is an old black streetlamp.  It is said that this was the inspiration for The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  Who knows?  (Photo compliments of Caroline Turner.)

After an obligatory stop at Bob's Cookies and Moo Moos, we headed to the famed Blackwell's bookstore for a break.  All five of us plopped down in a nook with books in hand to read for an hour or so.  I guess I didn't forget to read after all!  Austin said, "This is so fun.  Can we stay here a long time?"

We stayed near Oxford with our wonderful friends, Frog and Amy Orr-Ewing, and their boys.  Frog is the vicar of the Latimer Minster church in Beaconsfield, which we visited on Sunday morning.  The Minster meets in a tent on acres and acres of farmland.  Cherry and apple trees bloomed nearby.  Baby chicks including one named Cluckleberry Finn, huddled under their mother, Pickles.   Little lambs came running when we stopped by their pen. It's an amazing place of natural beauty, with life everywhere you look.  The Life continues in the giant yellow and red tent, where you are met by welcoming Brits offering home-baked sweets.  In this place, God is worshiped and praised with vibrant music and cogent, relevant teaching from his Word. I loved every minute we spent there.

After church, we enjoyed a delicious English chicken and leek pie, then headed to the red clay tennis courts to hit some balls.  It turns out the Orr-Ewing boys are tennis wizzes, and the youngest who is just 6 years old, ran me ragged! He is amazing to watch.

We had a lovely dinner with Frog and Amy and some friends of theirs, enjoying lasagna outside on the patio with Eton's mess for dessert.  This is a mixture of fresh meringues, whipped cream, strawberries, and raspberries.  Amazingly light and delicious.

Our final day in England, Frog treated us to a proper English breakfast of bangers (sausage), bacon butties (bacon sandwiches), fried eggs, and broiled tomatoes.  A brisk walk took us to the town of Gerard's Crossing, which was lovely with the springtime sun shining on lilacs and new green grass. Alas, it was then time to head to Heathrow for our final departure of our grand adventure. Thankfully, we got one last Semester at Sea fix, as we ran into Connor Smith, and his mom, Darcy, who had missed their flight to Iceland.  We had just enough time for a quick lunch together before we boarded our flight and headed home to the United States.

Thoughts from the Final Days on the Ship

We are finally home, but here are some thoughts I wrote down in the final days on the ship:

As I think about the MV Explorer, and the fact that this is the last time the ship will be used by Semester at Sea, I thought I’d share some interesting facts about the ship, particularly as we prepare to say goodbye.

The walls and doors are all made of metal, so you use magnets to hold everything up. No tape is allowed. The doors are also fire doors which means that they are unbelievably heavy. When the ship rocks, I find them almost impossible to open. It is a superhuman feat of strength just for Austin to get in his room.

Peanut butter continues to be the most popular staple on the ship. Any time kids get tired of the 3 P's (pasta, potatoes, and pork), they head to the 4th -- creamy peanut butter, usually on a banana.

The hot dogs at the pool bar may be the best thing I've ever tasted. Or perhaps I am just tired of the 3 P's.

On the ship, our children have gotten very used to being college students. One night we couldn't find Austin, and we all looked high and low for him around the ship. It was about 10:00 p.m. when a student walked down the hall and said, "I just saw Austin at the pool bar." The pool bar at 10:00 p.m.? When we got there, he was sitting on a bar stool eating a hot dog. I said, "Buddy, what are you doing!? It's way past your bedtime!" He looked surprised said, "What?  I was hungry!"  He's going to have a hard time adjusting to no 10:00 buffets, no late night hot dogs, and no ID cards to swipe when you want to buy a candy bar. I was so worried about the kids getting cavities on this trip, I called their dentist from Morocco to set up an appointment.

The Internet was so bad at sea, we were often in a virtual news blackout. Word of events like the earthquake in Nepal and rioting in Baltimore would spread through the student body by word of mouth, since we often had no way to access them online. At the end of the voyage, Al Jazeera news was on the TVs in our rooms, which helped keep us up-to-date.

I discovered I love college kids. Kerry does too. We often eschewed the "private parties" for faculty, staff, and lifelong learners in the lounge to spend more time with the students. Our favorite haunts were the ping pong table, pool deck, pool bar for smoothies and fries, and the piano bar for Scrabble and chess. (The letter of the day is obviously "P.")

While we had wonderful family adventures in the different countries, our children actively avoided us on the ship. With the exception of homeschooling in the mornings, they spent their days galavanting with their friends and the college students on board. Charlie often played ping pong or worked out with the most buff (buffest?) guy on the ship. They often did push-up and pull-up workouts together. Sydney bonded with two darling students, and the three could be seen painting nails and laughing with music playing in the background. Sydney painted all the flags of each of the countries on their nails, much to their delight. Austin loved to play tricks on the college kids -- prank calling them, and knocking on their doors and running away. But he won their hearts when he started the snack food delivery service to their rooms.

All this meant that we didn't see our kids very much at all. Not that we're complaining! It was just a funny turn of events. On the very last day of the trip, I was talking with a good friend of mine, a student, when Charlie came up. The college kid had no idea Charlie was my son because he had never seen Charlie with me the entire trip! Oh well. At least I'm not a helicopter parent.

Many of you have asked about my playlist at sea. Just kidding, no one has asked. But in case you're interested, here it is:

Go Light Your World by Chris Rice

The Broken Beautiful by Ellie Holcomb

Fix My Eyes by for King and Country

Oceans by Hillsong

Greater by MercyMe

God's Not Dead by Newsboys

Because of Your Love by Paul Baloche

My Lighthouse, Joy, and Praise Like Fireworks by Rend Collective

Before the Throne of God Above by Selah

The Great Day by Michael W. Smith

Fireblazin' and I Feel So Alive by Capital Kings

If you want to listen to it, just find a quiet place and close your eyes. Or better yet, get on a ship, sail out into the middle of the Pacific Ocean, then go out on the seventh deck at sunrise and lean on the railing so you can see the ship cutting through the waves ... then listen to it.

Everyone has been saying goodbye for days. Writing in people's journals. It's very high school, and very old school. I know we'll all cherish the notes. Kerry and I enjoyed writing personal letters to the students, professors, and others who have touched us. One couple got engaged in Morocco, and we've had such fun following their journey together.

Semester at Sea may be the hardest program to describe. It just doesn't fit into a neat category. It's not just a trip. It's not a study abroad program. It's not just for college students or retirees or even children. It's for everyone, and anyone who participates finds they are not the same at the end that they were at the beginning. Semester at Sea changes you.

I won't get too mushy here. It's just a blog for goodness' sake, but I'm sure I'll have deep cathartic thoughts as the days go by.

　

Morocco -- a Kaleidoscope of Color and Culture

When Kerry and I stepped foot in Morocco last week, it wasn't the first time. We came here 17 years ago when we worked for the House of Representatives. This was back in the good ole days when they still allowed Congressional junkets. Alas, today one must find facts to justify such a venture. 

Interestingly, we had just met a couple weeks before that trip. We had gone on only three dates -- first to Tortilla Coast on Capitol Hill, then bike riding to Mt. Vernon, and finally to a concert at Wolf Trap -- before heading to exotic Morocco with 20 other staffers. At that point, we weren't dating... just getting to know each other. But I can't think of a better place to get to know someone. Over couscous, tagines, and fresh dates, we each learned how the other traveled, handled jet lag, dealt with stress and enjoyed other cultures. Oh yeah, and we learned a thing or too about Morocco. It was a great trip.

Fast forward 17 years... to last week when we took our three children to Morocco to show them "where Mom and Dad first got to know each other."

We decided to dig deep in one place rather than try to cover the whole country in five days. So right after arriving into the Port in Casablanca, we sped to the Hassan II mosque to show them the largest one in the world. Somewhere at home we have a picture of the two of us there from our first trip. 

Then we hopped a train to Fes. Along the four hour trip, we amused ourselves by playing tricks on the other college kids from SAS. Austin went to their compartment and standing outside the doorway said, "Hey, guys, did you hear there's a bar downstairs?" He then proceeded to walk forward, crouching down with every step to make it look like he was descending a staircase. Get it, downstairs? Most of the students got the joke, but one girl was so excited, she started putting on her shoes! Never mind that we were on a moving train in a Muslim country, and there was no bar or downstairs for that matter. Our kids thought it was the funniest thing. When we ran into them again in Fes, Austin was sure to tell her that there was a bar downstairs there too.

Now Fes is the oldest living medieval city in the Muslim world. More than 1200 years old, it is a veritable labyrinth of twisting passageways, tiny storefronts, and thousands of narrow streets. We were told that the zig zag lanes were intentionally designed to protect women, as someone following a woman would lose sight of her after she turned the next corner. Also, the door of one house would never face the door of another, lest someone catch a glance of a woman who lived there. Even if they did, she would be behind a wooden door with tiny holes in it for her to peer out. Men could use an open window on the door. Women also are not allowed to eat at certain types of establishments. Men drink coffee and watch soccer every evening in outdoor cafes, for example, while women sit 30 feet away on park benches. We couldn't help but notice these differences.

We stayed in a riad within the medina, or old city. A riad is like a bed and breakfast, but better. The narrow lanes of the medina can be dark and shadowy, but the houses are built around an atrium to let in light. Some even have swimming pools behind their enormous wooden doors. Our riad was built in a square around an atrium, but it has a covering over it, so it isn't too bright. The gorgeous tile mosaics and intricately carved wooden moulding on the ceiling and walls, however, more than make up for it. And if you need some sunshine, just head up the three story tiled staircase to the roof, where a sweeping view of Fes awaits you. The scene is at once pedestrian and beautiful: beige-colored houses, clotheslines holding that day's wash, flowers in clay pots, cats jumping nimbly from roof to roof, and everywhere you look, satellite dishes all pointed in the same direction. Just behind the city are the Riff Mountains, adding a verdant backdrop to the tableau.

We arrived on a Sunday afternoon and decided to explore the area around the walls of the city. Passing under the grand onion-shaped arched gate, we headed to the green hillsides beyond. We made a great discovery -- on weekends, Moroccan families head for the hills, literally. They bring picnics, cooking equipment, soccer balls, and blankets and enjoy the view of the city laid out before them. We were there in the spring, when wild flowers were blooming everywhere. Old women were weaving the flowers into wreaths which young girls then wore on their heads. An old man came by carrying a wooden tray piled high with almond-filled macaroons and thick slices of rolled up sponge cake. The French influence is alive and well in Morocco! We bought a cookie and cake for twenty cents and shared them among us. Delicious.

The kids had brought a soccer ball from home, and they began kicking it around the sloping grassy hill. It was hard to keep it under control, but the Moroccan kids were quick to help keep it in play. Soon, a boy named Abnor came over and organized a game with all the kids. They all had a great time, and I took a group photo, which was of great interest to them when I pulled it up on my camera screen. At the end, our kids presented the soccer ball to Abnor, and he held it tightly, particularly when the others began asking for one too. Judging by the deflated balls other kids were using, Abnor will enjoy this one!

Next up -- dinner in our riad. Sitting on elaborately-designed cushions, leaning back on fluffy pillows and surrounded by tiled mosaics of every color and pattern, we were brought olives, dates, and steaming bowls of lentil soup with soft, yeasty Moroccan bread. The second course was the famous Moroccan tagines: chicken with tender apricots for Kerry and me, and meatballs in tomato sauce topped with a cooked egg for the kids. Something wonderful happens when meat is cooked in the clay tagine pots! Though we had no more room in our bellies, we willingly ate the creme caramel with strawberries and chocolate drizzle for dessert.

The next morning, we climbed the stairs in the riad, up, up, up until we emerged into the light of day on the roof. A beautiful breakfast was laid out on a green tiled table -- fresh breads, corn meal cakes, Nutella, jam, yogurt, cheeses, and fresh squeezed orange juice. We heard roosters crowing and the sounds of the medina waking up as we ate in the bright morning light. 

Once our tanks were full, we headed out to explore Fes. We had been warned repeatedly that it is essential to have a guide take you through the medina. Whenever we questioned if this was necessary, we were met with dire predictions, albeit vague ones. Robbery? Certain death? As it turned out, you don't need a guide at all! But there is a cabal among the riad owners, "professional guides," drivers, and shop keepers who all work together and share the profits. One store owner called it the mafia, and I can see why.

Anyway, our guide, Amina, dressed in a purple robe-like dress and a purple head-covering, took us first to a pottery-makking demostration. We saw artisans making beauitful pottery from the natural grey clay they get out of the ground. We watched a man use an old foot-powered wheel to spin the clay into a tagine. Then each of our kids had a turn at the wheel. They loved feeling the wet clay writhe and take shape under their hands. We saw artisans painting the pieces using homemade brushes made out of a single horsehair. There were men using ancient pick axes to cut tiny pieces of eight-sided pottery to be used in elaborate mosaics. Finally, we were ushered into a beautiful shop with -- surprise, surprise -- pottery of every shape and size to purchase. To the dismay of our guide and driver, we chose not to buy there.

Next, we entered the medina itself. Around 10:00 a.m., the media comes to life. Donkeys carrying loads of leather pieces or building supplies are driven fast through narrow alleys. If you don't smash yourself against the wall, you may lose a foot! In addition, little children wearing backbacks navigate the tiny streets. Shopkeepers selling clothes, vegetables, pots and pans, sunglasses, herbs, and ceramics all seek your business, but generallly in a polite way. Everywhere is the memory of France, which long occupied this country -- quiche, macaroons, escargot, baguettes, and my personal favorite, the Napoleon man who pushes a rickety cart loaded up with pieces of thick, custardy mille feilles. Yum.

As you walk within the maze of twisty streets, you ascend some steps and come out into a massive opening where the tanneries are. Morocco continues a fascinating tradition of hand-dyeing leather products. In giant open-air vats, almost the size of hot tubs, men place pieces of leather (goat, sheep, cow). Then they jump into the vats and work the leather with their hands, getting the dye to cover ther piece evenly and completely. The dyes are all natural. Poppies make a beautiful red color; saffron is yellow; cedar trees make the ubiquitous brown; mint leaves produce a lovely green color. The whole scene is like a colorful painting come to life. Truly, this was one of my favorite sights on the whole trip.

Next, our guide took us to the carpet shop. As we walked in, I said to my kids, "You've never lived until you've had a Moroccan try to sell you a carpet." It's quite an experience, and you just have to sit back, chuckle, and enjoy the show.

First, they usher you into the store with compliments and great fanfare. You then watch a woman making a carpet by hand, creating thousands of little knots of thread with lightning speed. Seriously, I took a video of her, and it looked like it was in fast motion. Then, they usher you into a grand showroom where they ceremoniously offer you very sweet, mint tea and offer you a seat on a soft cushion. Now the fun begins. 

Laying before you carpet after carpet, they ask which styles you like and which ones you don't. You feel like a sultan directing your minions as they unroll, then move or remove carpets right and left. Finally, with a small pile left, the real salesmanship begins. When we asked if certain carpets were available in different sizes, etc., the man said, "If we don't have your carpet, it doesn't exist." Alas, ours didn't exist. But we did fall in love with a beautiful carpet of pastels and intricate designs that was the wrong size for our library. For over an hour, the man brought out replacement after replacement, but it was to no avail. As he himself predicted when we walked in, a carpet will touch your heart, and this one touched ours. Finally, with not a little disappointment, he offered to sell us this one but to wait until we got home to ship it, and if it wasn't the right size, he would commission another carpet just like it with the correct dimensions. At this point, the real negotiating began. We employed Charlie, our best bargainer, to get the price down for us. The owner kept laughing when Charlie -- blond curls bouncing -- would smile and say, "How about this price?" "What are you, Berber?" the owner would reply. 

After we agreed on the price, we shook hands, and were offered a long and happy life by our salesman. But then we discovered a fascinating twist in Moroccan negotiating. As we were signing the paperwork he said, "Do you see that man over there? He is the one who will package your rug. You want him to do a good job, right? You need to tip him $20." When we questioned it, he said, "You want it to make it to your home in one piece, right?" He had a point. We paid the "voluntary" tip. This wasn't the last time. We were often asked to tip the artisan or "that guy over there" who had some stake in our wellbeing. I think that it's actually a way of the Moroccans saving face. Even if you bargain well, they get the last dig, so to speak, and they win. 

As we walked out of the carpet store, Sydney said, "I can't believe we bought a rug in Morocco." I said, "You wouldn't believe how many people say that here."

Finally, we took a break from bartering to head to lunch. I would add, "You haven't lived until you've eaten a Moroccan meal." They begin with a variety of cooked vegetable dishes. The table is literally covered with small plates of olives, carrots, eggplant (my favorite), tomatoes prepared with sugar and cinnamon, fennel, fava beans, and lentils. You eat them with soft flat breads covered with a thin layer of corn meal. Tagines are the main course. Uncover these cone-shaped clay pots, and you discover lamb cooked with prunes and spices, chicken with apricots or lemons, or beef with carrots and potatoes. Basically a personal stew, but the most delectable flavors imaginable. Finally, when you are so full you can't eat any more, they bring out fresh oranges and strawberries or almond cookies with mint tea. 

The Moroccan people are surprisingly warm and welcoming. They seem to have a real interest in engaging with foreigners. But we found that one thing was the biggest draw during our time there -- a Barcelona soccer jersey. Whenever the kids wore one, people would shout out in the medina, "Barca!" or "Messi!" and put their thumbs up. People would jump up to take pictures, and one guy came over with a "Messi" candy bar! Who knew? If you're heading to Morocco and want to make friends, don't forget to pack your Barcelona jersey! 

Later, we explored some nearby villages in the Middle Atlas mountains. On the way, we passed an Oil Libya gas station, with a giant plaza and even a playground complete with a trampoline. We learned that people host events like weddings there. So you can gas up and marry your bride all at the same time!

Ifrane was a village that had a distinct alpine feel. In fact, it was built by the French in the 1930s to be a ski town, and its main hotel is called Chamonix. It's also home to one of the king's palaces, which we tried to explore before we were stopped by stern-looking, armed Moroccan guards.

Nearby, we visited a national park that was home to the famous Barbary apes. Our riad owner had kindly purchased bags of dried macaroni for the kids to feed the monkeys. The apes can be about 2 feet high, but they are gentle and their soft fingers usually take one macaroni piece at a time. They are shrewd however. When Sydney held her bag too low, a large ape came up from behind and swiped it from her. Soon after, Charlie's bag was swiped by one who immediately ran up a tree and crunched his pasta above us. Austin wisely gave his bag to Kerry to hold, but another ape almost grabbed it too! My favorite, was watching a baby ape pulling back the gums of his mother presumably to see if there was any spare macaroni in her mouth. Or maybe he was checking for cavities.

Our final excursion was to Volubilis. This was an ancient town founded by Carthaginian traders in the 3rd Century BC. Later inhabited by Romans, it has some substantial ruins, though only 40 percent of the site has been excavated. Having visited Jordan and Israel just two years ago, we weren't totally blown away. But that's just because we've been spoiled by Masada, Jerash, and the City of David in Jerusalem.

Wrapping up the voyage… thoughts near the end of Semester at Sea

Our trip around the world isn’t over yet.  But it sure feels like the end is coming fast.  From our room, to the ship, to the students around me, everything is beginning to wind down. I’m having to battle a deep sadness as I consider this adventure coming to a close.

Semester at Sea has been sailing for 50 years, but for the past 11 years, it has called the MV Explorer its home.  It is a beautiful cruise ship – not with all the bells and whistles of Norwegian Cruise Lines, but a beautiful vessel, nonetheless, and one of the fastest cruise ships in the world.  But two days after our voyage ends, the MV Explorer will be gone … sold to another company and supposedly revamped for cruising the Greek isles.  What that means for us is the ship is gradually being stripped of all vestiges of Semester at Sea.  First, all the large photos of students were removed from the walls, replaced by generic cruise ship décor.  Then one day, the television monitor in the computer lab disappeared.  SAS signage is coming down.  Prices on MV Explorer memorabilia are drastically reduced.  Kerry thinks the hand sanitizer stands will soon have "for sale" tags on them.  Like it or not, we are all getting ready to say goodbye to the ship that has been our floating home for the past four months.

A friend of ours on the ship organized a “Sustainability Swap.”  Basically it’s a garage sale where everything is for free.  It’s been fascinating to see what people brought:   copious amounts of sunscreen, lots of old t-shirts, tea bags, notebook paper, winter clothes, and hand sanitizer. There's a lot of Pepto being given away, which is probably a good sign.  In our family, none of us ever got sick, for which we are very gratetfu!  Many dropped off their seasickness patches, but some have noted that we haven’t sailed from Morocco to England yet, which can be notoriously rough seas.  I held onto ours just in case.

What's even more interesting is what people took from the swap.  Peanut butter was hugely popular.  So were the mac-n-cheese cups.  Chocolate didn’t last 60 seconds. Our favorite find was a set of ping pong paddles from China with 3 new balls.  Our last ball had cracked the day before, and the paddles on the ship are awful, so we snapped those up right away.  But overall, we gave more than we received, which was our goal.
 

Even the kitchen is trying to get rid of extra food before we dock in Southampton, England.  On our last study day, we heard an announcement that the captain had an ice cream party for the whole ship… we just had to find it on board.  Students (and people like myself!) jumped up from our deck chairs to begin hunting for the treat.  We discovered the surprise on deck 2 with the dean and others scooping butter pecan with toppings for all of us.  In addition to the ice cream, good French dijon mustard has appeared in the dining hall.  There have almost been fist fights over the plums, peaches and grapes served at dinner.  The executive chef prepared a delicious pasta tasting for the lifelong learners yesterday to further deplete the pantry.  There’s a rumor that today’s meeting will include ice cream as well.  As the ship lightens its load, I’m afraid we are all adding to ours.  We better not forget to hit the treadmill!

The pool bar cashier came up to me today and said, “By the way, your sons are eating too much chocolate.”  Actually, they aren’t eating that much.  They’re buying up $.25 chocolate bars (even the pool bar is clearing out its stock) and sharing them with their friends, but I love that the waiters are checking up on my kids. It takes a village, I tell you.  The boys have also found a new business venture.  College students pay them to go to the snack bar, buy them food, then deliver it to their room.  One girl named Lacey is their biggest customer.  The kids call her Lazy.

The other thing that is really heating up right now is Scrabble.  Kerry and I started playing a couple weeks ago, and now it has become a nightly ritual.  The other day, some of the big guys who work out on the 7^th deck came by while we were opening the box, and they said, “Scrabble?! Can we play?”  When you take alcohol and the Internet out of the picture for college kids, they beg to play such games.  The other day I was soundly beaten by three students from South America, for whom English is their second language!  In addition to learning humility, I’m also learning all kinds of bizarre words with Q and Z in them. 

The shipboard auction last week raised about $14,000.  What was surprising was the items that garnered the students' attention and money.  Peanut butter and Nutella went for about $220, and the winner returned the peanut butter!  Enjoying a bubble bath in the dean's office went for hundreds of dollars.  The dean made it clear he would not be there!  One student paid $1100 to be the first person off the MV Explorer when we dock in England.  She also bid to be the last person off, but didn't win.  Kerry noted that with some poor choices in Morocco, you could get 8 hours of dock time in England, which would effectively give you the distinction of being the last student off the ship... for free!
 

A cruise wouldn’t be complete without controversy, and our ship was no exception.  Sydney’s friend, a 12-year-old daughter of a professor, came through the halls one night telling all her friends that her mom had an affair with someone in leadership on the ship.  Kerry and I were hesitant to believe the rumors, which spread like wildfire.  But soon, we learned that her mom and an official had indeed left the ship in South Africa, and a new dean was selected from the faculty on board.  The young girl and her father then left in Namibia to go figure out their new life, and the shipboard community was left reeling.  The students, who have been admonished from the beginning to act responsibly and follow the honor code, understandably felt betrayed and angry, and we all have had to share a little more love and support since then.

On a brighter note, the other night Kerry and I were watching ping pong when suddenly everyone ran to the railing on the 7th deck.  A pod of dozens of dolphins were swimming on both sides of our ship's wake. The sky was overcast, and the the dolphins' gray bodies matched the gray water, but we coudn't miss them. They jumped out of the water, and many would also spin, showing us their pink underbellies.  It looked like they were showing off .  They followed behind the ship for a few minutes -- splashing, twisting, and leaping -- then slowly receded from view.  This was a great surprise and something I was hoping to see since the beginning. 

Namibia

How do you describe an African nation that feels like a German beach town with sand dunes, wild animals, and half a million seals?  Very carefully, I suppose. 

Namibia was originally not on our itinerary for Semester at Sea.  Ghana was.  But, as you know, Ebola hit West Africa, and so we steered very clear of that part of the continent.  When SAS put Namibia on the list, all I knew about it was that Brad and Angelina went there on their honeymoon.  Today, I know a lot more about this stunning country just northwest of South Africa., and I love it.

Namibia is a former German colony.  It has a sordid past -- the Germans attempted a genocide of a Namibian tribe in the early 1900s.  Terrible things happened on the very beaches that many Germans still visit on holiday.  In fact, there are so many blond, blue-eyed people in Namibia, our children fit right in -- something we never expected in Africa!

Its checkered past aside, Namibia is an incredible place. The size of California and Texas combined, it only has 2 million people.  That means you can drive for miles and miles and never see another person.  It's like one giant national park with everything from deserts, to mountains, to misty beaches, to endless sand dunes.  In short, it's stunning.

Our first adventure was to go camping in the Namib desert with 11 friends.  Traveling with Wild Dog Safaris, an outstanding budget safari company, we drove six hours on a dusty, dirt road to Sessriem, on the edge of the world's tallest sand dunes.  This was not an animal safair per se, but we were amazed to see many wild animals along the way.  Mountain zebras blended in with the scrubby desert landscape.  Springboks were hardly visible -- their coloring so camouflaged -- even though there were entire herds of them near the road.  Giant ostriches ran through the open savannah -- often in threes, for some reason.  Once we had to stop the car to let some wildebeests run by. "They have a face only a mother could love," Kerry noted.  Even a jackal made his appearance and ran off after a few oryx in the distance.  For a simple car ride through the country, we were downright spoiled with all the beautiful wildlife we saw.  And if that weren't enough, we saw a complete double rainbow glowing over the desert!

On the way, we stopped at an outpost called Solitaire.  It only has an inn, gas station, and bakery.  The place is a total time-warp.  Old rusted cars from the 50's stick out of the sand.  Cacti grow up around rusted out tractor equipment.  A chalkboard lists the amount of rainfall in the area -- 58 mm in all of 2013!  But most important of all is the little shop that sells Moose McGregor's world famous, hot apple pie. Moose apparently was the guy who put Solitaire on the map.  He died last year, and you overlook his grave as you enjoy your pie in the open air.  It genuinely is the best apple pie around mainly because it's the only apple pie around.  I mean,you're out in the middle of the desert, for goodness' sake.  Whatever the case, it's delicious, and just like every other car that drove by, we had to stop and have a piece!

Just before sunset, we arrived at our campsite with a stunning vista of rocky mountains jutting out of the savannah.  The kids jumped in the cold pool while our guides started making dinner, and I tried to capture the brilliant sunset with my little camera.  It was woefully insufficient for such a task.  Alas, Namibia is one of those places "you just have to be there."  It's views are far too vast to ever be captured on film. But I tried anyway.

As night fell, a full moon illuminated the sandy ground of the camp, but even so, we could easily identify Orion and the Southern Cross above us. Dinner was rice and a chicken, vegetable stir fry that was so tasty, Austin had four servings!  As you know, everything tastes better when you're camping, but this was downright delicious.  A large scorpion made dinner extra exciting, but thankfully someone's shoe took care of it.  Giant round beetles called talkie talkie bugs were crawling around in the sand, and other unidentifiable creepy crawlies inspired us to zip up our tents completely as we went to bed early.  Little did I know we would have an adventure that night.

Our tents were arranged around a large acacia tree which had strange, half moon-shaped seed pods all over its branches.  Once these pods dry out, they fall off the tree, and they rattle like maracas when you shake them.  Even though these pods are so hard you can barely break them, they are the favorite food of springboks and oryxes.  Well, around 11:00 p.m., I woke to the sound of bones crushing.  At least that's what I thought until I looked out our transparent tent door and saw a springbok chomping on an acacia pod.  He was about 18 inches from my face, and he was the cutest little guy!  About an hour later, I awoke to more chomping, but this time it sounded like a monster was outside.  I looked out to see a large oryx. The oryx is a majestic animal, sort of like a horse with straight, three foot long horns that slant back on its head.  This one crushed some pods, checked out our cooking area, banged around our food trailer, and ultimately wandered off.  I woke Kerry up for the animals, but he was sleepy and growing tired of the interruptions.  I, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of our visitors.  I stayed up listening and waiting for more. At one point, I saw an oryx walking on the horizon, and it was so tall, it looked like a giraffe!  Finally around 1:00 p.m., we were awakened again ... this time by an enormous, six foot tall oryx who came right up to our tent . Mesmerized, we couldn't move, except when he came right toward our door, and we slowly backed our faces away from the canvas.  We watched in awe, and he watched us, probably not so much in awe.  After loudly chewing his pod, he ambled out of the campsite. Kerry and I just looked at each other and grinned, aware of the special moment we alone shared with this gorgeous creature.

We awoke in the dark to hurredly throw on our shoes and head out for the day -- to Namibia's iconic red sand dunes.  After driving half and hour, we arrived at Dune 45 -- the famous dune already filling up with climbers who would watch the sunrise from its ridge.  We huffed and puffed, amazed at how hard it was to climb the 175 -meter hill, but the view was more than worth it!  We sat down in the cool red sand and watched as the sun peeked over the mountains and turned the beige dunes into brilliant reddish-orange pyramids.  They literally glowed in the early morning light.  

If others were hoping for a contemplative moment in the desert, I'm afraid my boys took care of that.  They had a ball playing, rolling, and diving in the sand.  After watching them run down the dune, with sand flying up behind their feet, I couldn't help myself and also ran down with abandon.  My feet sank as if in snow drifts, but it was impossible to fall, as the sand was a constant cushion.  At the bottom, my shoes were so full, they felt three sizes too small!   At the foot of the dune, our guides had prepared a hot breakfast of bacon and eggs, so yet again we enjoyed delicious food in surreal surroundings.

Our next adventure was a trek through the desert to Dead Vlei.  It would take two to three hours in the brutal heat and sun, so many opted to take the open-air, four-wheel drive shuttle.  Kerry, Charlie, and I decided to hike with some of our friends. We traversed the desert sands (which now appeared yellowish-beige in the midday sun), climbed more dunes, and crossed cracked river beds, long dry from the lack of rain.  The sun beat down mercilessly.  Now as the sand filled our shoes, it was hot and uncomfortable, and we stopped often to dump them out.  On our way, we passed Big Daddy, the world's tallest sand dune, stretching almost 1000 feet into the air.  We climbed part of it, then descended into Dead Vlei.  Vlei means Valley, and this is truly a barren valley.  Stark black trees stand almost petrified in this old river bed where rain has not fallen in ages.  We stopped in the Vlei, then quickly returned to camp to jump in the pool.

With all our tromping around, I almost forgot it was Good Friday.  I've always thought Good Friday was a strange name, for it commemorates the day that Jesus died on the cross.  It sure doesn't sound "good" to me, but when I think that He was dying to pay for all the things I have done in life that I'm ashamed of ... when I realize that He died so I wouldn't have to ... then I understand the "good" in Good Friday.  Shoot, when you think about it, it should be called Amazing Friday or something like that.  When your sins and guilt are washed away, a strong adjective is in order.

Anyway, as I was hiking in the dunes, I noticed the acacia tree's long spiky thorns all over its branches.  I remembered Good Friday and thought of the crown of thorns piercing Jesus' brow.  Kerry and I wanted to do something special on this day, so we decided to have a little service at our campsite.  We went to the camp store and found sparkling red grape juice in a can, then went to pay for it at the cash register where a lovely Namibian woman worked.  As we were leaving, I said to her, "God bless you."  

She looked up and said, "Excuse me. Do you have a minute?"  

"Sure," I said. 

She leaned over and said in hushed tones, "Why did you say, 'God bless you'?"

I said, "Well, we love Jesus, and we're remembering him today since it's Good Friday.  In fact, we bought the grape juice to have a little service at our campsite."

She beamed and said, "I love Jesus too.  May He bless you with his power as you live for him today."

Wow. Not your average camp store encounter.  

We gathered our friends and read from the Bible about Jesus's death on the cross, and shared how He offers new life and forgiveness of sins to all who call on Him as their Savior.  Then we shared bread and juice right there under the acacia tree. Forgiveness.  Freedom.  Good Friday indeed.

Our day ended with a short hike through a beautiful canyon, another spectacular sunset, and roasted antelope shish kebab (Eland, specifically), stewed butternut squash, and fresh Greek salad.  We played a rousing game of charades before heading off to bed.  This time, the boys carefully laid out acacia pods in front of their tent to lure oryxes and springboks in the night.  As it turned out, wave after wave of animals came throughout the night, but Charlie, Austin, and Sydney never woke up.  In fact, while Kerry and I got up four times to watch our wild friends eat their crunchy snacks, not another person in camp woke up. Either they're very heavy sleepers, or we're just imagining things.  I'm afraid we'll never know the truth.

On Easter Sunday, we were back in the port city of Walvis Bay and ventured out with some friends to find a local church.  After walking about 45 minutes, we found an unassuming building and were surprised to find 40 other students, faculty, and staff from SAS there.  We easily doubled the attendance of the church, and the pastor welcomed all of us "from the ship."  He did a beautiful job explaining the myriad proofs for Jesus' resurrection, and I know many of us were touched.

After church, we went with a student friend to Swapokmund, a German beach town about half an hour away. The air temperatures were in the 60s, and large waves were slamming into the shore, but my kids donned their suits and jumped into the frigid waters with glee. This Miami girl was happy to watch on dry land, thank you very much.

Our last day in Namibia, we went on a catamaran to see the wildlife in Walvis Bay.  Within five minutes of pushing off, a giant pink pelican landed on the boat, eager for a fish snack from our captain.  He reminded me of Kevin from the movie "Up," because every time you tried to pet him, he would stick out his neck and open his huge beak in your face.  

Next on board was Lippy, a large seal who also jumped on our boat for a fish snack.  Lippy liked to sit on the shoes of our captain and rub his head on the captain's blue jeans.  Lippy is a notorious biter, and the captain laughed as he told us, "In case you're wondering -- yes, it makes me very nervous to have Lippy so close to the crown jewels!"  We proceeded out into the bay to Pelican Point, where 20-30,000 seals live. They put on quite a show, wailing and crying like a bunch of babies. Namibia has half a million seals, and each one eats 20-25 kg of fish a day.  This is not lost on the fishing industry, so the Namibian government culls the seal population every year.  When Sydney asked how they do that, our captain said quite cheerfully, "With a baseball bat to the heads of the babies." Ouch.  No wonder the seal mommies were crying.  

We rode around a large new lighthouse on the point.  The old one used to be red and white, like most lighthouses, but this one was black and white.  That's because the old one blended in with the red sand dunes, and ships couldn't see it in the fog.  A shipwreck on the beach was case in point.  The new lighthouse is also made of cast iron because the blowing sand took out all the cement on the old one.  The only downside is that it has to be repainted every year.  Just some of the unique challenges of maintaining a lighthouse in the desert!  Our captain offered us oysters and champagne, and then we sailed back to the dock to prepare for our final adventure in Namibia.

Semester at Sea expressly forbade all the students from riding ATVs in the sand dunes.  And it worked -- I'll bet only 75% of the students rode them.  We, being the careful parents that we are, got ATV's for all five of us and headed into the desert.  Riding on sand is incredibly fun, but a bit tricky.  We learned that when going up the side of a dune, it's important to go fast.  Don't put on the breaks!  We learned that the hard way.  We also learned that when going down a dune, it's important not to hit the breaks either ... just let the bike carry you down.  Ialmost learned this the hard way.  Not surprisingly, Charlie had no fear and was constantly wanting to go faster.  

While I was having the time of my life, I also found myself full of emotion.  The dunes are strikingly beautiful.  And, like so many places in Namibia, you just have to be there to fully comprehend them.  Imagine yellow, golden sand as far as the eye can sea, in mounds and mountains all around you.  It's as if God took his finger and swirled it all around in a giant sandbox.  Off in the distance, the sun shines on the Atlantic, and it looks like millions of diamonds sparkling on a cobalt blue canvas.  The sky is a brilliant blue with cottony clouds drifting across.  This, my friends, is the Namibian coast -- one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. 

Now I know why Brad and Angelina came to Namibia on their honeymoon. 

Mauritius and South Africa -- Two Beautiful Jewels

Mauritius

 About two weeks ago we went to Mauritius, otherwise known as the Pearl of the Indian Ocean.  It’s quite a pearl!  Due to the shenanigans of past voyagers (according to rumors, they actually burned a hotel to the ground), we were only allowed to stay for about 5 hours, and everyone from the ship had to attend an official program in order to disembark.  Fortunately, our program involved going to the beach -- a pristine, white sand beach flanked by swaying coconut palms and surrounding the most turquoise water I’ve ever seen.  When Mark Twain visited Mauritius, he said that God created Heaven after creating Mauritius and He patterned the celestial paradise after the island one.  Now I know why. 

Because we were traveling on an official SAS program, we enjoyed being with about 60 friends from the ship -- all faculty, staff, or lifelong learners like ourselves.  We played football in the water, the kids went tubing, and we all basked in the beauty of Mauritius.  For lunch, a nearby food truck sold the most delicious Indian curries in a crepe-like bread with fresh salad and French fries.  Others sold fresh pineapple cut before your eyes.  One pick up pulled up selling homemade rum fermenting in giant glass jars.  On another field program, I’m told some students were able to get drunk at a gas station stop!  Our group was pretty tame, and I’m happy to report, nothing was burned to the ground, though my shoulders did get a little burned.

In the end, we returned to the ship after our short stay, amazed that we got to go to Mauritius.  “Who goes to Mauritius?!” we said.  Even crazier, who goes to Mauritius for five hours?!

 South Africa

 After sailing for a week, we pulled into Cape Town, South Africa before dawn.  The outline of Table Mountain rose above the harbor in the morning light, and you could feel the excitement as we prepared to disembark.

South Africa quickly became one of our favorite countries in the world.  Its stunning natural beauty, combined with the beauty of the people, the world class cuisine, and the plethora of interesting activities makes it a fabulous vacation spot.  We literally waited until the very last minute to get back on the ship… we didn’t want to leave!

Words may never fully describe South Africa, but I’ll give you some highlights.

HERMANUS
After renting a car and praying before we started out (Kerry had never driven on the left side of the road before… but he did great), we drove east through some of the most beautiful landscape we’ve ever seen.  With the crashing sea on our right and rocky mountains and twisting vineyards on our left, we made our way to Hermanus, a tiny village perched on cliffs above the water. It’s known as the world’s best whale-watching town, but unfortunately we weren’t there during whale season.  Nevertheless, Hermanus is absolutely adorable.  Even Charlie noted, “This is a charming little town.”  And it is.  It’s entirely walkable with outdoor cafes, markets with African crafts, and ice cream shops, all with a breathtaking view of the sea, which continually writhes and crashes against the weathered cliffs. Our little apartment overlooked the ocean, and all night long we heard the crash of the waves as we slept.  The greatest sound machine ever. 

SHARK DIVING
We came to Hermanus because it was close to Gaansbai, a nearby harbor and push-off point for many shark cage diving tours.  Our second morning in South Africa, we woke to a dark, cloudy sky and strong waves.  I worried about going out in such surf, but this was our day to shark dive, and nothing would stop us!  After a generous breakfast, we all donned bright orange rain jackets and boarded the Apex Predator, our boat with Great White Shark Tours.  Just getting out of the harbor was a challenge with the narrow clearance through the rocks and the high waves coming in.  But after gunning it a few times to go up and over the incoming waves, our boat was speeding out to sea thanks to its four huge engines.  I had Sydney and Charlie up on the top deck, and we clung to the rail to make sure we didn’t go flying off by mistake!

A mere 15 minutes out of the harbor, we stopped in the aqua water to check things out. The chum man at the back of the boat began stirring a mixture of fish guts, sea water, and blood… a mixture he would churn the entire time we were at sea.  Every now and then, he poured some of it into the water behind the boat. 

Now apparently the only sharks you see near Gaansbai are Great Whites.  And the Great Whites near Gaansbai definitely know the drill, judging by the number of shark boats out in the ocean with us.  Basically, this is big-time business.  I couldn’t figure out how all these boats could find sharks, but I soon discovered the South African version of Field of Dreams: “If Mr. Chum Man pours his concoction into the ocean, sharks will come.”  It’s pretty much like clockwork.

To lure the sharks close to the boat, a man uses half of a large fish baited on a hook and held afloat with a buoy. There is also a rubber seal decoy named Gladys, who, judging by the teeth marks, has duped many a shark.  All day long, the captain, a veteran shark chaser named Brian, sits on a platform above the water, scanning for sharks and throwing out Gladys whenever one comes by.  His cohort keeps throwing out the fish bait.  We saw 8-10 sharks, but it was hard to tell as many kept coming back and sometimes we saw several at once.

The best viewing of the sharks is done from the boat… particularly when the captain jerks Gladys out of the water, and the sharks jump out to chomp her.  Occasionally, the guy holding the fish bait isn’t fast enough, and the sharks actually get a little lunch.  Frankly, I think they deserve it after putting on such a spectacular show for us all day.  But even though the best seats are the dry ones on the boat, we were all thrilled to get a chance to get in the water and see these behemoths up close and personal.

First we donned wet suits, shoes and hoods.  Then masks.  Then a weight belt to make it easier to stay underwater.  Unfortunately, our kids’ wetsuits didn’t fit quite as well, so they were much chillier in the water than we were.  Then Austin couldn’t wear a weight belt at all because, according to the captain, if he did, he would drown.  So Austin had a harder time going underwater than the rest of us.  But he didn’t drown, so that’s nice.

Once you’re all suited up, you lower yourself into the icy water of the cage which is tied to the side of the boat.  It has room for eight people.  Ideally, you hold onto bars that are within the cage, but occasionally people forget and grab onto the outside bars, not advised.  The cage is only partly submerged, so you keep your head above water until the captain (who is luring the shark close to the cage) yells, “Down, down, down, down, down, down!” Then you take a quick breath and go underwater.  At this point you are in a silent, frigid, pale green world waiting for the shark.  Depending on where the bait is, he may glide past inches from your face, thrash around biting at the fish, or shoot up from below you to leap straight out of the water.  Once when Austin was in the cage, a shark came swimming right at him, his mouth wide open, and ran right into the cage.  I think he thought Austin was a chicken nugget! 

I expected to be scared of the sharks and possibly traumatized for life about swimming in the ocean, but instead, I was truly awestruck by these giant creatures.  I found them tremendously beautiful.  Their sheer size took my breath away.  Their silent almost imperceptible movements in the water were fascinating.  Their power made me feel small and insignificant.  Like so many other experiences on this trip, I was reminded of the awesome power of the Creator, who not only made the sea, but everything in it, including the Great Whites.

CAPE OF GOOD HOPE

No trip to Cape Town is complete without visiting the very tip of the peninsula that juts out below the city.  On the way down, we stopped at Simonstown, the site of Boulders Beach where African Jackass penguins roam freely.  We spent an afternoon following these darling creatures, watching them waddle around, and hearing them bray like a donkey, hence their name.  My favorite was to see them swim.  They would do a version of the doggie paddle, leisurely paddling, paddling, then they would duck their head underwater and go into hyperdrive. They would just ZOOM all over the place, then pull their head back up and resume casual doggie paddling.  When they want to, these guys can move!

 A mere half an hour drive south, we reached Cape Point – the bottom of the peninsula.  The day we were there, the winds were howling and gusting up to 40-50 miles per hour. I’m guessing they often do that at the southern tip of Africa.  We climbed a hill to the old lighthouse for a commanding view of the crashing seas and rocky cliffs, all the while trying not to get blown off.  We then hiked down to a deserted, windswept beach tucked between Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope.  I could imagine many an explorer coming upon this beach – if he could get his ship in without wrecking on the rocks, something that happened often here throughout the centuries.  We leaped around the sand, with the wind howling around us, and then made our way to the Cape of Good Hope just before sunset.  Thinking of Vasco de Gama, we posed for the obligatory photo, then jumped in our car to get out of the wind and to our youth hostel for the night!

The next morning, after some delectable cinnamon rolls from a nearby bakery, we drove back up the peninsula where we were rewarded with stunning vistas of Chapman’s Peak Drive, even though a fire two weeks ago charred the fynbos vegetation and left the mountainside a reddish-brown color.  After a sandcastle and swim at Hout Bay, we tasted the most delicious calamari of our lives at Muriel’s Munchies. Just $3, it was the most tender, tasty lunch you can imagine!  Next stop, Camps Bay Beach, where the beautiful people go, where we just stopped for an hour to get some gelato and enjoy the view. 

LION'S HEAD

Finally, we headed to Lions’ Head, a cone-shaped mountain right next to Table Mountain.  Sydney wasn’t feeling well, so she and Kerry stayed back while the boys and I began our trek up.  It was mainly walking at first, but soon it offered challenging rock scrambles, including ladders, rungs, and chains in the mountainside.  We hit “traffic” on the trail as many others were trying to get to the top before sunset.  The climb was much harder than I expected, and I wasn’t sure if Austin could do it, but the kid did a super job, and kept looking up, as I advised.  After about one and a half hours, we got to the top at 6:30 p.m.  The entire city was below us, and we enjoyed the 360 degree view for about two minutes, then quickly began our descent to try to beat the impending nightfall.  Charlie ran ahead and apparently was leaping down the mountain because perfect strangers were coming up to me reporting on his recklessness.  After seeing Charlie pretend to jump, one college kid remarked, "That's when you don't want to be a mother." Welcome to my world.  As we were going down, we saw Kerry and Sydney … she had revived, and they were just a few minutes behind us!    In the end, we didn’t beat the darkness, but that was just as well, as watching Cape Town go from daylight to the pinks and purples of sunset, to twilight, to black night with the city lights twinkling below us, was a great joy.

Sunday we celebrated Palm Sunday at Hillsong Church in Century City, just 15 minutes from Cape Town.  We loved worshiping with people of every color and nationality, and the message was on unity, a fitting theme for our trip to South Africa.  That afternoon we saw even more sharks at the aquarium and topped off the evening with a concert and picnic at the Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens at the foot of Table Mountain.  This spectacular place is perfect for relaxing, strolling through the mountainside park, and hanging around with guinea fowl.  These medium-sized, flightless birds -- with strange blue and red markings on their heads and beautiful black and white-spotted feathers -- run wild around the gardens.  We may or may not have chased them until we were laughing hysterically and rather sick to our stomachs.  Needless to say, have a look at the botanical gardens when you’re in Cape Town and bring some bread for the guinea fowl!

Our last hurrah took us back to Camps Bay Beach for one final day in paradise.  It was just what the doctor ordered -- crashing, ice cold waves that left your body numb; gorgeous views of Lion’s Head; and the most delicious pizza and salad at Col Cacchio’s. A lovely way to end our time in a most beautiful country.