"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines.

Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." -Mark Twain

>> Friday, March 30, 2012


Tourist or Traveler?

Sailing into the Dominican Republic this is what one experiences: deep blue water, dramatic landscapes, and the anxiety of being in a new place. Then, the wind dies as you go closer to the shore and soon the rumble of the main engine is heard on deck. The lookout notices it first-we’re sailing into bigger and bigger garbage patches as the coast becomes more developed. Then, the skyscrapers are upon us (a shocking sight after so many days at sea).
The Dominican Republic is the only Caribbean destination on this trip that I’ve been to before. It is shocking to compare my experience here as a traveler to that of a tourist. Being with Ocean Classroom you see the trash in the ocean and the poverty in the barrios. These things, the taboos that are hidden from the tourists, allow you to understand the place you are in. An understanding of the place you’re in lets you make connections to life back home and realize there are other ways to live than what we were taught as children.
-Brendan


“Hola seniorita” says the cook as I peer into the kitchen. His voice is one of a kind, a scratchy, high pitched tone. “Ayuda me?” I ask him blushing as I realized I had just asked him for help, the opposite of what I meant. He stared at me as I frantically try to fix my mistake-a blur of “yo’s” and “tu’s” coming out of my mouth accompanied by hand signals. He laughs, leans down, and proceeds to plop a bunch of yllo plantains (the sweet kind) on the counter. He speaks Spanish as he motions for me to peel and cut them. “ok” I say and get to work peeling the starchy bananas. “Como te llamas?” he asks and I answer with my name. He asks for a repeat “E-LIZ-A-BETH” I say, trying to annunciate as best I can. He tries to say it, but as it is a mouthful, mutters the last part. “tu ables espanol?” he asks. “pequito” I say telling him I only speak a little. He nods and starts speaking in slow, stuttered English. “I am learning englais, my name is Audi.”(Not pronounced like the car, said Awe-dee) I smile. “You speak well,” I say as I begin to slice the plantains at an angle. He points to me, “your nickname is Liz.” He pronounces it like “lease” and it took me a second to understand that he wasn’t trying to say “please”. I smile, “liz es un gato” but since Elizabeth is too much I let him call me Liz. He tells me that he will teach me more Spanish if I teach him more English. “Okay” I say, “it’s a deal.”
I get up early the next morning and go down to the kitchen where Pedro, the care taker, is cutting fruit and listening to loud bolero. Audi comes in and laughs, getting me a cutting board and some pineapple. “como estas?” he asks and I tell him I’m good. He begins to make fun of Pedro’s music, making the suave Latino beat. Even though I don’t know everything they are saying it makes me laugh. It is very awesome to hang out with people that only speak Spanish. When I was standing there cutting naranjas and pina for desayuno it was almost like the language barrier disappeared.
So there I was, in a small kitchen in the Dominican Republic with two guys who knew I was totally American but wanted to help me learn about their culture, listening to the early morning city sounds and Latino music, completely content with what I was doing. Sometimes you have to search for your cultural experience, the one where you’re not really a tourist but when you get it it’s well worth the wait.
-Elizabeth

Read more...



Stateless

Can you imagine being born without an identity? In a world where people are barcodes on a global grind, not having an identity takes on a whole new meaning. Stateless children are Haitian children born on Dominican soil. The Dominican Republic will not recognize them and their parents’ (or grandparents’, or great grandparents’) homeland, Haiti, will not accept them. The fact that this situation exists is beyond ridiculous, it is unacceptable, but as it is not immediately relevant or important to people with the ability to change it, it continues.
Emi is a stateless orphan. She is six years old and a beautiful girl with an amazing, unsupressible smile. She is shy but if you let her in she’ll talk your ears off even though she knows you don’t understand her. When I first met Emi I was attempting to dig out a big glass bottle but I didn’t have one of the few shovels available and was getting pretty annoyed moving the dirt around. One moment it was two dirty white hands shoveling away, the next it was two dirty white ones and two small black ones.
Emi had not been one of the many touch-starved orphans to launch themselves at me upon our arrival but had waited until she had my undivided attention. From that bottle shard on Emi did not leave my side. She walked miles around her village with me, not complaining when her friends got piggy-back rides and refusing to let anyone carry her small bag because I had told her it was “bonito”. Besides being one of the most deserving, kind-hearted kids I’ve met Emi is an amazing artist. When I brought out my colored pencils she forwent the typical flower-sun-scribble and drew me her home. She drew a landscape of spirals, mountains and waves. She drew a gorgeous world, a dreamland which was unmistakably magical. Looking at her art (it was art in the purest definition of the word) I couldn’t help but compare her to myself at six. I was a spoiled child who resented the art classes my parents gave me, who refused music lessons and ditched FLY (French group). This girl had a world of potential, but unlike me, she was not going to have any opportunity to cultivate it.
I will never choose to live in guilt, but Emi is never going to leave me. Today, I have a world of opportunity. I could be anything I want, Emi can’t and in her current situation she will never be able to. People tell me that I can change the world. I am not sure how realistic that is, but whatever I end up doing it will change Emi’s life. I won’t forget her.
-Libby

Read more...



Little stateless child, you welcomed me with laughter and happiness.
Little stateless child, I’m sorry I can’t really communicate with you I hardly speak my own language.
Little stateless child, how curious and fascinated you are with all my foreign features.
Little stateless child, you wear my bandana as if it was made for you.
Little stateless child, I have to go for a minute to eat my lunch while you only get a glass of milk today.
Little stateless child, I’m back to play for twenty minutes until it is time to go.
Little stateless child, hasta manana! I promise I’ll be back.
Little stateless child, it’s crazy how quickly these three days have passed with I’m with you.
Little stateless child, I made a new friend this week who I will never forget.
Little stateless child, you can have my bandana as well as a little piece of my heart.
Little stateless child, you don’t know how hard it is to leave and not come back tomorrow.
Little stateless child, I wish I knew how to tell you that I promise I will be back someday.
-Audrey

Read more...



The days spent volunteering at the orphanage for stateless children were very enlightening and opened my eyes a little more to some important aspects of life. First, upon starting work the first day I quickly came to notice that the children were very eager to step in and help. Here were kids who were of a different ethnicity, spoke a different language, had never seen us before and whose lives so far have been far from easy. Not only did they step in and help they clearly loved doing so. Secondly, it often appears that people in the USA and other well-developed nations have an obsession with material goods. Most of what we do tends to revolve around the trading, acquiring, and consuming of such goods. Lots of us also tend to believe that these interactions with material goods will make us happy. Therefore, it was pretty enlightening to see the kids at the orphanage very happy despite the fact that they have almost next to nothing. I believe it is because they have grown up with simply each other and their community around them. Their happiness seems to stem from simply being with the people they enjoy and having interactions with them. I feel that if maybe everyone lived a little more like that it would be a valuable lesson learned.
-Frank

Read more...



As we stepped off the bus at the orphanage for stateless children a swarm of smiling, cheering kids descended upon us. Out of a crowd a shy girl stood out to me standing away from the group with wide curious eyes. I went over and kneeled down next to her and asked, “como te llama?” She grabbed my hand, smiled and softly replied “Amallida.” From that point on she had my heart. Her sweet quiet demeanor among the hoards of rowdy kids was absolutely precious. We were given a tour of the village and walked to the river, Amallida by my side, holding my hand the whole way. When we returned to the orphanage the next day Amallida was standing at the gate and when she saw me her eyes lit up as she ran to give ma a hug. I know very little Spanish and she didn’t speak any English, but I got the feeling we understood each other. On the third day when we were leaving I knelt down to give Amallida a hug and said “adios chica”. She kissed my cheek as a tear rolled from her eye and shyly whispered “adios”. I could have burst into tears myself. I will never forget sweet little Amallida.
-Claire

Read more...



When you have so much it is hard to appreciate everything as we start to lose appreciation for everything from the roof over our heads to our family. At the end of our first day at the orphanage the kids took us on a tour of their town and down to the river. At the river I went and sat between these two kids, a little boy and a girl who was no older than twelve. As soon as I sat down the boy started to cry. I picked him up to try to offer some comfort and as soon as he could see her again he reached for the girl on my other side. I put him down next to her and he grabbed on to her like she was the last thing he had. After talking to the girl some I found out that he was her little brother and I realized that she really was the only person that he had.
These two little kids over the course of ten minutes made me reconsider my entire life. They made me appreciate everything again. They made me realize that we should cling to everyone in our lives like they are the last person we have while giving up everything that we have like we have ten more, because our friends and our families will only last us one lifetime which is not even close to enough time to tell them how important they are.
-Tegan

This week I’ve played many roles. I have been the niece that my Dominican family has not seen in a while, an excited teenager find out what colleges I was accepted to, a volunteer in a life changing community service project creating a foundation for a school, and most importantly, I’ve been a translator. Attempting to erase the language barrier while staying on my toes very happily awaiting requests on how to say things, what certain words mean, etc. My favorite of being a translator is being able to be a part of every conversation. Stories about childhoods, sharing of future plans, translating favorite colors and favorite foods, and telling somebody how to say, “I love you”. I was such an important role in communication this week. It was nice to see everyone’s Spanish improve as the week went on and seeing them rely less on me. The excitement in their voices when they would walk up to me and say, “oh my god Patricia! I just had an entire conversation in Spanish! I wish you could have heard me!”
-Patricia

Read more...



Today we went to an orphanage. It was really dirty with trash everywhere. I was shocked to see how happy the kids were. In America kids with ten times as much are still unhappy with what they have which is so much compared to these orphans. The first day we went we cleared out some trees and put trash that we found lying around into trash bags. The next day we put all of the trash into some kind of hole that was dug up. It was very sad to leave those kids knowing that they had so little. It really made me think of all the opportunities I have and what I have been taking for granted.
-Doug

The city is a big place and I am a small person.
The world is a big place and we sail it on a small boat.
Santo Domingo purrs at night like a cat filled with satisfaction.
So does my fan.
So does my belly.
The rain comes often
So do our smiles.
So do our wake ups.
-Iyla

Read more...



On our way there we sit and watch as the people stare at us. We stop at this lot on the side of the road with a gate. Children rush the gate cheering and chanting with joy. We get off the bus and enter through the gate. The children lead us in to their school and show us around. Their school consists of two tarps hanging from the trees acting as a roof. They have old broken plastic play ground toys and beat up old desks. Despite the minimal things they had we all still had a ton of fun playing with them.
-Matt


Finally we have arrived in the Dominican Republic. For the first couple of days we are staying in Santo Domingo at the Amistad Center. At the Amistad center there is a house keeper named Pedro. He is a short guy. He is really funny and kind. Even though he does not speak English we can still some how understand each other. We will miss him when we leave the DR.
- John

Read more...

SPINNING WORLD
The life that we live
Is no longer ours
The life that we give
Is what fuels fires.

Decades ago
I did not exist.
Now that I am here
My name’s on a list.

How can I stand out?
How can I make a change?
What can I do to prove
That time has gone by?

Offer a hand
Offer a lift
Offer a smile
That’s the greatest gift.
When you’ve moved on
And all that’s left
Is a grinning image of you
And your love for the rest

Your job has been done,
You’ve made a change
And people now know
What they must arrange.
-Meg

Read more...

This week over all was a nice time. Working at the orphanage was extremely eye opening and rewarding. The kids are extremely happy even given the situation. They 100% deserve this new school and I wish I could have done more to help.
The second part of the week was much more relaxing then I thought it would be. It was in a beautiful place. This week was great and I’m happy to get back on the boat!
-Zack

Read more...

Las Burbujas

Floating aimlessly
Through the sea of children
A wave of bubbles
Rides the morning sky

Mira!

A connection.
Something shared across
Barriers of language, race, class
Needless to the backgrounds
That differ so severely.

They giggle and point
Fingers reaching and wiggling
Into the still air.

Corre, corre!

Like followers of the Pied Piper
They are led on a wild chase
Skipping, sprinting, hopping, grabbing
Captivated with delight.
Entranced by the carefree game
Until the last drops
Of solution are scraped
From the plastic bottle

Mas burbujas?
Lo siento, mi amigo, no tengo mas.

The moment has ended
But the image remains
Frozen into the smiling eyes
Of all the children
Black and white
Big and small
Intertwined.
-Chapin

Read more...



A smooth

Cocoa plume

Sucked in

Like an embryo

Because embryos

Do that sometimes

Suck in thickly

To mass produce

Like violent rock structures

To roll through

And break the earth


Sitting by the river

I watch as they head back into their cabins

Turning on the lights

So they see

Their feet

Scrape the floor


Floor scathed

And the sky still broken

I hurl into my feet bare

The part of me I love the most

For enveloping

Children of the flies

Runoff from the skies

Blessed center of the rubbled growth

Dusty river

The valley

What perplexes me

Is the pattern

Of the leaves

Slightly harmed

By the breath

Of the waves

-Katie

Read more...



Tourist or Traveler?

Sailing into the Dominican Republic this is what one experiences: deep blue water, dramatic landscapes, and the anxiety of being in a new place. Then, the wind dies as you go closer to the shore and soon the rumble of the main engine is heard on deck. The lookout notices it first-we’re sailing into bigger and bigger garbage patches as the coast becomes more developed. Then, the skyscrapers are upon us (a shocking sight after so many days at sea).

The Dominican Republic is the only Caribbean destination on this trip that I’ve been to before. It is shocking to compare my experience here as a traveler to that of a tourist. Being with Ocean Classroom you see the trash in the ocean and the poverty in the barrios. These things, the taboos that are hidden from the tourists, allow you to understand the place you are in. An understanding of the place you’re in lets you make connections to life back home and realize there are other ways to live than what we were taught as children.

-Brendan

“Hola seniorita” says the cook as I peer into the kitchen. His voice is one of a kind, a scratchy, high pitched tone. “Ayuda me?” I ask him blushing as I realized I had just asked him for help, the opposite of what I meant. He stared at me as I frantically try to fix my mistake-a blur of “yo’s” and “tu’s” coming out of my mouth accompanied by hand signals. He laughs, leans down, and proceeds to plop a bunch of yllo plantains (the sweet kind) on the counter. He speaks Spanish as he motions for me to peel and cut them. “ok” I say and get to work peeling the starchy bananas. “Como te llamas?” he asks and I answer with my name. He asks for a repeat “E-LIZ-A-BETH” I say, trying to annunciate as best I can. He tries to say it, but as it is a mouthful, mutters the last part. “tu ables espanol?” he asks. “pequito” I say telling him I only speak a little. He nods and starts speaking in slow, stuttered English. “I am learning englais, my name is Audi.”(Not pronounced like the car, said Awe-dee) I smile. “You speak well,” I say as I begin to slice the plantains at an angle. He points to me, “your nickname is Liz.” He pronounces it like “lease” and it took me a second to understand that he wasn’t trying to say “please”. I smile, “liz es un gato” but since Elizabeth is too much I let him call me Liz. He tells me that he will teach me more Spanish if I teach him more English. “Okay” I say, “it’s a deal.”

I get up early the next morning and go down to the kitchen where Pedro, the care taker, is cutting fruit and listening to loud bolero. Audi comes in and laughs, getting me a cutting board and some pineapple. “como estas?” he asks and I tell him I’m good. He begins to make fun of Pedro’s music, making the suave Latino beat. Even though I don’t know everything they are saying it makes me laugh. It is very awesome to hang out with people that only speak Spanish. When I was standing there cutting naranjas and pina for desayuno it was almost like the language barrier disappeared.

So there I was, in a small kitchen in the Dominican Republic with two guys who knew I was totally American but wanted to help me learn about their culture, listening to the early morning city sounds and Latino music, completely content with what I was doing. Sometimes you have to search for your cultural experience, the one where you’re not really a tourist but when you get it it’s well worth the wait.

-Elizabeth

Stateless

Can you imagine being born without an identity? In a world where people are barcodes on a global grind, not having an identity takes on a whole new meaning. Stateless children are Haitian children born on Dominican soil. The Dominican Republic will not recognize them and their parents’ (or grandparents’, or great grandparents’) homeland, Haiti, will not accept them. The fact that this situation exists is beyond ridiculous, it is unacceptable, but as it is not immediately relevant or important to people with the ability to change it, it continues.

Emi is a stateless orphan. She is six years old and a beautiful girl with an amazing, unsupressible smile. She is shy but if you let her in she’ll talk your ears off even though she knows you don’t understand her. When I first met Emi I was attempting to dig out a big glass bottle but I didn’t have one of the few shovels available and was getting pretty annoyed moving the dirt around. One moment it was two dirty white hands shoveling away, the next it was two dirty white ones and two small black ones.

Emi had not been one of the many touch-starved orphans to launch themselves at me upon our arrival but had waited until she had my undivided attention. From that bottle shard on Emi did not leave my side. She walked miles around her village with me, not complaining when her friends got piggy-back rides and refusing to let anyone carry her small bag because I had told her it was “bonito”. Besides being one of the most deserving, kind-hearted kids I’ve met Emi is an amazing artist. When I brought out my colored pencils she forwent the typical flower-sun-scribble and drew me her home. She drew a landscape of spirals, mountains and waves. She drew a gorgeous world, a dreamland which was unmistakably magical. Looking at her art (it was art in the purest definition of the word) I couldn’t help but compare her to myself at six. I was a spoiled child who resented the art classes my parents gave me, who refused music lessons and ditched FLY (French group). This girl had a world of potential, but unlike me, she was not going to have any opportunity to cultivate it.

I will never choose to live in guilt, but Emi is never going to leave me. Today, I have a world of opportunity. I could be anything I want, Emi can’t and in her current situation she will never be able to. People tell me that I can change the world. I am not sure how realistic that is, but whatever I end up doing it will change Emi’s life. I won’t forget her.

-Libby

Little stateless child, you welcomed me with laughter and happiness.

Little stateless child, I’m sorry I can’t really communicate with you I hardly speak my own language.

Little stateless child, how curious and fascinated you are with all my foreign features.

Little stateless child, you wear my bandana as if it was made for you.

Little stateless child, I have to go for a minute to eat my lunch while you only get a glass of milk today.

Little stateless child, I’m back to play for twenty minutes until it is time to go.

Little stateless child, hasta manana! I promise I’ll be back.

Little stateless child, it’s crazy how quickly these three days have passed with I’m with you.

Little stateless child, I made a new friend this week who I will never forget.

Little stateless child, you can have my bandana as well as a little piece of my heart.

Little stateless child, you don’t know how hard it is to leave and not come back tomorrow.

Little stateless child, I wish I knew how to tell you that I promise I will be back someday.

-Audrey

The days spent volunteering at the orphanage for stateless children were very enlightening and opened my eyes a little more to some important aspects of life. First, upon starting work the first day I quickly came to notice that the children were very eager to step in and help. Here were kids who were of a different ethnicity, spoke a different language, had never seen us before and whose lives so far have been far from easy. Not only did they step in and help they clearly loved doing so. Secondly, it often appears that people in the USA and other well-developed nations have an obsession with material goods. Most of what we do tends to revolve around the trading, acquiring, and consuming of such goods. Lots of us also tend to believe that these interactions with material goods will make us happy. Therefore, it was pretty enlightening to see the kids at the orphanage very happy despite the fact that they have almost next to nothing. I believe it is because they have grown up with simply each other and their community around them. Their happiness seems to stem from simply being with the people they enjoy and having interactions with them. I feel that if maybe everyone lived a little more like that it would be a valuable lesson learned.

-Frank

As we stepped off the bus at the orphanage for stateless children a swarm of smiling, cheering kids descended upon us. Out of a crowd a shy girl stood out to me standing away from the group with wide curious eyes. I went over and kneeled down next to her and asked, “como te llama?” She grabbed my hand, smiled and softly replied “Amallida.” From that point on she had my heart. Her sweet quiet demeanor among the hoards of rowdy kids was absolutely precious. We were given a tour of the village and walked to the river, Amallida by my side, holding my hand the whole way. When we returned to the orphanage the next day Amallida was standing at the gate and when she saw me her eyes lit up as she ran to give ma a hug. I know very little Spanish and she didn’t speak any English, but I got the feeling we understood each other. On the third day when we were leaving I knelt down to give Amallida a hug and said “adios chica”. She kissed my cheek as a tear rolled from her eye and shyly whispered “adios”. I could have burst into tears myself. I will never forget sweet little Amallida.

-Claire

When you have so much it is hard to appreciate everything as we start to lose appreciation for everything from the roof over our heads to our family. At the end of our first day at the orphanage the kids took us on a tour of their town and down to the river. At the river I went and sat between these two kids, a little boy and a girl who was no older than twelve. As soon as I sat down the boy started to cry. I picked him up to try to offer some comfort and as soon as he could see her again he reached for the girl on my other side. I put him down next to her and he grabbed on to her like she was the last thing he had. After talking to the girl some I found out that he was her little brother and I realized that she really was the only person that he had.

These two little kids over the course of ten minutes made me reconsider my entire life. They made me appreciate everything again. They made me realize that we should cling to everyone in our lives like they are the last person we have while giving up everything that we have like we have ten more, because our friends and our families will only last us one lifetime which is not even close to enough time to tell them how important they are.

-Tegan

This week I’ve played many roles. I have been the niece that my Dominican family has not seen in a while, an excited teenager find out what colleges I was accepted to, a volunteer in a life changing community service project creating a foundation for a school, and most importantly, I’ve been a translator. Attempting to erase the language barrier while staying on my toes very happily awaiting requests on how to say things, what certain words mean, etc. My favorite of being a translator is being able to be a part of every conversation. Stories about childhoods, sharing of future plans, translating favorite colors and favorite foods, and telling somebody how to say, “I love you”. I was such an important role in communication this week. It was nice to see everyone’s Spanish improve as the week went on and seeing them rely less on me. The excitement in their voices when they would walk up to me and say, “oh my god Patricia! I just had an entire conversation in Spanish! I wish you could have heard me!”

-Patricia

Today we went to an orphanage. It was really dirty with trash everywhere. I was shocked to see how happy the kids were. In America kids with ten times as much are still unhappy with what they have which is so much compared to these orphans. The first day we went we cleared out some trees and put trash that we found lying around into trash bags. The next day we put all of the trash into some kind of hole that was dug up. It was very sad to leave those kids knowing that they had so little. It really made me think of all the opportunities I have and what I have been taking for granted.

-Doug

The city is a big place and I am a small person.

The world is a big place and we sail it on a small boat.

Santo Domingo purrs at night like a cat filled with satisfaction.

So does my fan.

So does my belly.

The rain comes often

So do our smiles.

So do our wake ups.

-Iyla

On our way there we sit and watch as the people stare at us. We stop at this lot on the side of the road with a gate. Children rush the gate cheering and chanting with joy. We get off the bus and enter through the gate. The children lead us in to their school and show us around. Their school consists of two tarps hanging from the trees acting as a roof. They have old broken plastic play ground toys and beat up old desks. Despite the minimal things they had we all still had a ton of fun playing with them.

-Matt

Finally we have arrived in the Dominican Republic. For the first couple of days we are staying in Santo Domingo at the Amistad Center. At the Amistad center there is a house keeper named Pedro. He is a short guy. He is really funny and kind. Even though he does not speak English we can still some how understand each other. We will miss him when we leave the DR.

- John

SPINNING WORLD

The life that we live

Is no longer ours

The life that we give

Is what fuels fires.

Decades ago

I did not exist.

Now that I am here

My name’s on a list.

How can I stand out?

How can I make a change?

What can I do to prove

That time has gone by?

Offer a hand

Offer a lift

Offer a smile

That’s the greatest gift.

When you’ve moved on

And all that’s left

Is a grinning image of you

And your love for the rest

Your job has been done,

You’ve made a change

And people now know

What they must arrange.

-Meg

This week over all was a nice time. Working at the orphanage was extremely eye opening and rewarding. The kids are extremely happy even given the situation. They 100% deserve this new school and I wish I could have done more to help.

The second part of the week was much more relaxing then I thought it would be. It was in a beautiful place. This week was great and I’m happy to get back on the boat!

-Zack

A smooth

Cocoa plume

Sucked in

Like an embryo

Because embryos

Do that sometimes

Suck in thickly

To mass produce

Like violent rock structures

To roll through

And break the earth

Sitting by the river

I watch as they head back into their cabins

Turning on the lights

So they see

Their feet

Scrape the floor

Floor scathed

And the sky still broken

I hurl into my feet bare

The part of me I love the most

For enveloping

Children of the flies

Runoff from the skies

Blessed center of the rubbled growth

Dusty river

The valley

What perplexes me

Is the pattern

Of the leaves

Slightly harmed

By the breath

Of the waves

-Katie

Las Burbujas

Floating aimlessly

Through the sea of children

A wave of bubbles

Rides the morning sky

Mira!

A connection.

Something shared across

Barriers of language, race, class

Needless to the backgrounds

That differ so severely.

They giggle and point

Fingers reaching and wiggling

Into the still air.

Corre, corre!

Like followers of the Pied Piper

They are led on a wild chase

Skipping, sprinting, hopping, grabbing

Captivated with delight.

Entranced by the carefree game

Until the last drops

Of solution are scraped

From the plastic bottle

Mas burbujas?

Lo siento, mi amigo, no tengo mas.

The moment has ended

But the image remains

Frozen into the smiling eyes

Of all the children

Black and white

Big and small

Intertwined.

-Chapin

Read more...

STUDENT ENTRY

>> Monday, March 19, 2012


Aboard the Harvey Gamage, it is a rite of passage to go aloft. You have to learn all the various rigging on the boat, both the running (the things you haul on) and the standing (the things that offer support and can be used to climb on). Mates test you on other things, such as flag etiquette, knots, and describing the setting and striking procedures of any sail. After you do all of this, you are allowed to put on a harness and climb aloft with a crew member. You must always say “laying aloft on the fore-mast” or “laying aloft on the main-mast” before you scale the shrouds. Going aloft is important because the rigging must be checked for chafe. I figured that I’d just get my aloft clearing out of the way, and when I did, I didn’t think much of it.



However, the first time I went aloft I found my heart pounding with exhilaration. The top of the mast does not appear as high from the deck as it is from the top. When I looked down, people appeared the size of bugs and I could see the entire expanse of the ship. The boat was rocking a medium amount on deck, but aloft it felt like an earthquake with exaggerated pitches. I held onto the shrouds like they were glued to my hands. I could see island off Trinidad from the point of view of a Scarlet Ibus (shout-out to Trinidad’s national bird!). The ship looks so small from the top of the mast but also so sleek. It gave me a different perspective of our home, the Harvey Gamage. She may not be the fastest boat on the ocean, but seeing her cut through the water from the top of the mast made me respect her more than I had before.



Soren, Minneapolis, Minnesota

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STUDENT ENTRY


On March 8th, 2012 we were invited to the marvelous home of Sandra to celebrate the Hindu holiday of Holi, the blissful celebration of life and color. After an achingly long taxi ride we arrived at her home, nestled between orange groves, her lawn dotted with shrines. Upon our arrival, Sandra and her sons peacefully settled us in their living room for a bit of history about Hinduism and Holi. As recorded, many Indians were brought to Trinidad as indentured servants after slavery was abolished. With them, they brought Hinduism. I never expected Trinidad to be so full of this; many houses are decorated with colorful flags celebrating the completion of a Hindu ritual. Sandra was an expert, and she was written a few books on Hindu and Holi. Before our delicious lunch of aloo pies and roti, Sandra concluded her lecture with a compelling story, the story of how she found Hinduism. She awoke one night in the middle of the night, and felt the need to chant; she chanted for hours and prayed for the world with great generosity. From there she started building shrines and has seen the power of energy and love.


After lunch we were given a tour of her shrines and the religious significance of each god or goddess. She told us to believe in power, in earth, and shared profound wisdom and generosity. She blessed us all.


After our tour we engaged in the celebration of Holi, spewing a multitude of colorful dyes at each other. By the end of the celebrations we all had a layer of purple, blue, and green on our bodies. It was full out war, and it was insanely fun.


We were saddened to leave, but left with our minds and bodies to some degree restored. We thank Sandra and all the people we have met so far for their generosity and warmth.



Katie,

Rutherford, New Jersey

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STUDENT ENTRY


My bare feet slapped the pavement as we strolled through the rain. Spirits were high as we laughed and joked, approaching the pan yard. A warm glow emanated from beneath the roof of the yard, and we could see steel pans littering the arena, empty oil tubs lining the walls. The men were tuning pans, loosening up their arms, legs, and ears before practice. We shuffled in, not at all sure of what to expect. The men gave us warm smiles as they took their positions at the pans. Not a word was spoken. Then, with a gesture from the conductor, the symphony began. I cannot recall what song they first played, but I so vividly remember the joy that struck me. My face lifted, and the tired ache from hiking the previous day floated away from me. The loud, overpowering flood of notes commanded my body: dance. The evening grew to night, and the stars grew brighter, so they played on, smiling and laughing between songs. Band members came and went, and my classmates stepped in to participate here and there. As our time to leave approached, they handed over the drum sticks to us, and so patiently showed us each note, each rhythm, each pan. And so we played, laughter rose with the chaotic melody that protruded. As we left, we thanked them each for their time and patience, and continued on our way, steal pan rhythm still echoing in our chests.


Iyla, Brattleboro, Vermont

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STUDENT ENTRY


We are about ready to leave the port. The mainsail is set to keep us into the wind, like a weathervane. The mate of the watch gives the call “hands to haul the anchor.” The command is repeated at different points of the boat. Wooden bats that give us leverage are slipped into place and we say “ready to heave around.” The mate gives us the go ahead and we start to work. The “click, click, click” is monotonous. Sometimes we sing bits of songs, strike up conversation, but soon we are too winded to talk. We swing the bats up and down, up and down, again and again until the mate says “ring one bell!” That means the anchor is off the bottom of the ocean. Depending on the clarity of the water, “two bells” might come soon or late. It means the mate can see the anchor and it is clear. We heave around with alacrity because we know that “three bells” will soon be struck. “Three bells” means the anchor is out of the water and cranked in all the way. The anchor is lashed horizontally to the gunnel and away we sail!



Peter Wieser, Lenord Town, Maryland

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STUDENT ENTRY


If you asked me to tell you about the most beautiful sailboat I have ever seen, you might expect me to describe the modern, large, fancy floating piece of fiberglass that people sail around these days. The most beautiful boat that I have ever seen is a classic little boat. She is handmade, five years old, white hull with red accents, and only has only a main sail and jib. She is a sloop built by brothers in Carricou, an island rich with traditional boatbuilding history.



In Carricou we studied the history of the sloops: how they are made and what they are used for presently and in the past. A local named Uncle Cee, also the captain of the sloop I described earlier, was kind enough to take us out on his fishing sloop to show us what traditional sailing is like for the people of Carricou.



I am so grateful for the experience. Ripping through the water, sitting on the cabin top, getting splashed by waves and watching the crew of thee sail that little sloop was a high moment for me. Seeing experienced and understanding their love for the water, their sloops, and what they do every day really made me gain an appreciation for sailing. I will never forget the feeling of being unstoppable as we soared through the water and how much we all laughed as the waves kept washing over the side onto me. Carricou, by far, has been one of the highlights of our voyage. I am beginning to really understand how lucky I am to be here.



Patricia, Brooklyn, New York

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STUDENT ENTRY

Carricou



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>> Monday, March 12, 2012


GREETINGS FROM TRINIDAD


March 10, 2012


Dear Family and Friends,

Greetings from our Southern-most port stop of our voyage and the northern extent of the Andes, Trinidad. We are clearing out of customs this very moment to leave Trinidadian waters, so I need to keep it brief and just pass on a few tidbits.

Our last port stop to Carriacou was rather pleasant. During the first week of our semester voyage, we caught wind of the traditional boat building activity currently going on in Carriacou. We were inspired to meet the remaining Carriacou sloop builders face to face. Word was sent ahead that we were sailing their way, and upon our arrival to Windward, Carriacou, we were welcomed by the small boat building community with open arms. (See Zack’s posting about our visit for an account of our visit with the sloop builder, Alwin, for more details). We even were fortunate enough to go on a day sail on one of the working fishing sloops from Windward with the boat builder and captain, Uncle C. Carriacou was also a good place for us to focus on our academic coursework during heavy rains; explore the nearby coral reefs using our masks and fins; find ourselves in paradise on the secluded and postcard perfect Anse la Roche beach; and kayak through mangrove swamps in the Oyster Bay Marine Protected Area. Friday night we even had the opportunity in Tyrell Bay to socialize ashore and dance to live string band music.

Sunday morning we hauled back the anchor and got underway for Trinidad. By Tuesday we were on Port of Spain’s waterfront eating a variety of tasty West Indian food and drinking soursop smoothies at the well-known, “Breakfast Shed.” Since then, one thing has led to another and all of the sudden we must cut our ties to shore. In addition to eating delicious rotis and bakes, we have visited Hindu temples; watched hundreds of Scarlet Ibis’s roost in the mangroves of Caroni Swamp; hiked along a stunning stretch of Northern coast line in stands of Mora rain forests; partook in a special celebration of the Hindu celebration of color, Holi; joined in a steel pan band practice at a nearby Trinidadian pan-yard; spent a day at the Asa Wright Nature center; and enjoyed the waves, beach and bakes of Maracas Bay. Once again, people have generously shared their time, energy and life experiences with our group during our stay.

Student letters home were postmarked this morning. Hopefully you will receive these notes in your mail boxes in the near future to learn more details about some of these recent excursions listed above. We will post more pictures and words during our next port stop.

This upcoming passage will be the furthest of our trip so far and the students are also entering a new phase on watch standing: Junior Watch Officers.

We hope all is well with each of you and we will be in touch.

Best Regards,

Christine Simpson



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STUDENT BLOG ENTRY: CARRIACOU SLOOPS

On our first day ashore in Carriacou, we had a nice tour of the island. We left from the pier and drove up one of the six major streets on the island (they were barely big enough for two cars to pass). Our driver pointed out the local furniture shop, which was an open building with a few big tools and stacks of lumber all around. Most of the lumber is mahogany, local to the island. Our driver then took us the highest point in Carriacou (it was only 945 feet above sea level), where we could see everything. There was a hospital there, which was built on a high point to blow away mosquitos during a malaria outbreak… The people in the hospital have a nice view.

We then went on a search for a man named Dave and found him walking down the road with his daughter. Dave took us down the road to see a local man, Alwin build a fishing boat. We heard about the boat builder from a photographer named Alexis Andrews in English Harbor. Alexis has been doing a movie project about the Carricou sloops to record and pass on the knowledge of the few remaining boat builders in the area. When the bus stopped next to two rickety houses, I couldn’t figure out why. Then I saw it: two logs spread out on the lawn and the frame of a small sloop. I love boat building, and I know a lot about it, so I was excited. Dave introduced us to Alwin, a kind man in his fifties. He got into boat building after a fishing boat he was working on sank. He was one of the only survivors. This chilling experience lead him to boat building; he wanted to understand how boats work and make them more seaworthy. Alwin showed us the project which will take him about six to eight months of finish, working alone. This amazed me because he only used a chisel, clamp, chainsaw, straight edge and hammer. Even with these tools, the work looked perfect. He used local wood: white heart for the keel and white cedar for the frame, but imported the wood for planks from another island. We didn’t want to hold him up longer, so we left and spent the rest of the day at the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen.

Zack

Newburyport, MA

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Two Offshore Passages of Note

>> Saturday, March 3, 2012

The straight line distance on both routes is about 100 miles, but on the run from Dominica, Gamage logged better than twice that. After a good deal of time in port, students needed to regain their sea legs. What a better way to do so than a beat to winward and a long reach to the next port? And so after sailing off Roseau's anchorage, Gamage could be found beating through the Dominica Channel east bound against the Trades for the wide Atlantic Ocean to windward of Martinique. To ensure the weather gage of Martinque outer reefs was gained, the beat back and forth to windward continued through the night and into teh following afternoon. Student navigators had ample opportunity to practice newly acquired plotting and ded reckoning skills. As wind and sea were on the make, a reef was tucked just before dark and then commenced a swashbuckling, all night ride down the windward sides of both Martinique and St Lucia. Dawn of the second day saw Gamage romping close along St Lucia's southern coast by the imposing Pitons soon after coming to anchor with stern lines made off to coco palms near tranquil Soufriere.
Departing in the late afternoon from St. Lucia, Gamage, as is her custom, again sailed off the anchor. After a day of arduous hiking to among other places than the peak of hte Gros Piton, the crew was weary though no less able. On clearing St. Lucia's lee Gamage was off on another wild ride. The wind had freshened and backed well north of east providing an easy opportunity to weather St Vincent and a near downwind run in +25 knots of wind and a frolicsome 8-10 foot sea. Dawn the next day say Gamage booming past Bequia to starboard then Canouan to port through the northern Grenadines. Just before sailing into Carriacou, Gamage hove to for a traditional Ocean Classroom celebration, the Dead Horse Ceremony.
On longer OC voyages, the point at which students are no longer considered "green" hands, that is acknowledges as apprentice crew in fact, is noted. On this occasion the day marked a month into the program and the mile stone of better than 1000 nautical miles so far sailed as logged during the previous night's mid watch. All hands gathered on the quarterdeck around the "dead horse," an artful construct of cardboard boxes complete with tail and ears. Everyone was invited to write on a scrap of paper some thing or feeling that was wished off the ship. The scraps were then given to the dead horse to hold inside. A short congratulatory speech made mention of the fact that on this passage no one had (for the first time) communed with Neptune via mal de mer. Everyone's sea legs were indeed being gained! Then came the traditional "Poor Old Horse" chantey ably lead by song master, Second Mate Simpson, with everyone joining in the chorus. With the final verse, "We'll sink him down with a long, long roll; Where the sharks'll have his body, an' the devil take his soul" and the chorus, "Oh we hope so, an' we say so," the horse and his cargo of notes was heaved over the side. Gamage then promptly got underway to come flying in to the Hillsboro Bay anchorage, round up head to wind, and let go the anchor off the town pier with flags proudly snapping in the breeze.

Captain JB Smith
Aboard Schooner Harvey Gamage, February 28, 2012
Hillsboro Anchorage, Carriacou, Southern Grenadine

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STUDENT ENTRY

>> Friday, March 2, 2012


Curled up on the settee, enjoying the warmth of the main salon, and the stableness of the quarterdeck area, I find it hard to believe that a couple of hours ago I was fully submerged.
I've been having a busy day. We sailed out of Roseau, Dominica at 1300 and I was 'in charge' of setting the sails. I saw 'in charge' loosely because I did little more than echo the mates. Somehow we managed to get the sails up, and despite a rather fouled anchor, we sailed off the hook out of Roseau.
Fast forawrd and B-watch is at the headsails. Captain Smith ordered the striking of the outer jib, and I was feeling particularly happy because Jander and I were going to gasket the sail. A sea stow, or "get it in some resemblence of a furl before something goes wrong" stow, is the quick tying down a sail while underway, usually in less-than-perfect conditions. Today there were no raging white caps or blinding sheets of rain, and I really didn't think we were going to have a problem getting the sail stowed quickly. But, as I should have learned by now, predictability does not exist when sailing.
Things started out nicely; Jander ungasketed the sail tie and we pulled the miter over the folds. I was leaning over the bowsprit, one hand reaching for the sail tie, the other holding the canvas folds tight, and then... I was underwater.
It's the strangest sensation. You're elevated above the ocean on a vessel moving at about 5 knots, going against the waves. When the ship rides down into the gully of a swell, and then up over a crest, it gives the same butterfly sensation that driving over hills does. When the swells are deep enough your feet or legs will dunk in the water. This is why I take any opportunity to gasket, ungaskset, furl, stow, or check for chafe. The headrig makes every carnival ride seem pointless and unexciting. Despite the enjoyment I derive from spening time on the headrig, I realize that there is a reason for the seemingly excessive safety procedures required to go out. There is a reason we wear harnesses, that we have to check with a mate before and after laying on the headrig, and that we have to keep three points of contact at all times. When you're thrown under a six foot swell out there, you are thrown under six feet of ocean. One mintue you're standing in the air, the next you're looking at a wall of blue and white foam. My legs were pulled aft; my face was shoved into the headrig netting. I could literally feel my harness pulling me upwards, keeping me away from the hull of the ship. And as quickly as it came, it was gone. We were back above the sea, soaked, but still on the headrig. I remember turning, meeting Janders eyes, and seeing what could only have been reflected in my eyes: astonishment, surprise, adrenaline, and the unmistable twinkle that results from doing something increidbly fun.
It wasn't until after we finished the furl and were back on deck that I realized I was shaking. I was also smiling. Like I said before, you really cannot predict what is going to happen while sailing.
Libby
Brunswick, Maine

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STUDENT ENTRY

Welcome to Dominica (pronounced DOE-MAN-EEK-AH), a small island filled with nature and adventure. Home to Octavius Lugay (a.k.a Sea Cat), our tour guide who seemed to know everyone on the island, a very popular Saturday market, and of course, JB's smoothie stand, where JB, a local smoothie extraordinaire, will give you the best smoothie you've ever had. We were able to go to all of these things (maybe some of us went to JB's more than once...), and do so much more.

Dominica has a well-defined culture. I suppose this applies to each island we have visited, and it is a good thing for those back home to know: it's never just 'the Caribbean.' Each and every island, no matter how small, is unique from the others. As a local man said to a passerby, "Smile- Dominica is a happy island." I could not agree more with this statement. We were all able to experience the happiness of the island like other tourists can't. It was an eye opening experience.

My favorite part of our stay in Dominica was Carnival. It was the best celebration I've ever been to. We danced to calypso (a type of music popular in the Caribbean), ate soursop ice cream, and watched the parade of feathered dancers fly by. Nobody stays inside for Carnival- everyone is out on the streets. A crowd: mothers with children in matching sparkles waiting for family members to dance by, grandmas in traditional clothing, teenagers with friends, dreaded 'rastas' standing by, their usual 'chill' attitude diminished by the exhilaration of the moment. Vendors selling goods, coconuts, fresh fruit, chicken, rice and fish, lined the streets. Distant shouts in Creole and English could be heard over the music, which was so loud I felt it in my heart. Huge, sparkly, feathered costumes with people doing the classic Dominican shuffle step (called chipping) slowly went by. Barbeques happening on the sidewalks, people taking pictures of us, news men interviewing us, calypso enveloping us, and just having fun- 'cuz your only at Carnival once, right? I hope not.

Elizabeth
Camden, Maine

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