UVA Today Blogs: Semester at Sea

PHOTO: Bobbi, a student at the University of Wisconsin-Eau Claire, stands on Deck 8 to watch our departure from St. Petersburg. (Courtesy of U.Va. Spanish professor David Gies).

What a difference an extra hour of sleep makes.

The seas are rippled, but it’s smooth sailing. The Bridge Report says we are 604 nautical miles from our next port: Korzor, Denmark.

<In the next 24 hours, I’ll be posting 2 entries: this one and another entitled “Post-Russia: In Their Own Words,” which includes thoughts and perspectives of the Russia experience by students and lifelong learners. These mini-entries are still coming in. I hope to have them posted tonight or first thing tomorrow.

<When we’re in port – whether it’s Halifax, Bergen or St. Petersburg – I’ve wondered how the SAS staff manage to sleep. They have to worry about what happens when 580+ students get off the ship and head for points near and far.

SAS staff do their best to prepare the students for the port experience, giving them tips about what to explore and warnings about what to avoid. In our pre-port talks about St. Petersburg, we heard explicit warnings not only about pickpockets, ethnic crime and safe street-crossings but also about the consumption of alcohol.

<Specifically, Russian vodka.

Part of being a college-age student is feeling invincible. Bad things happen to other people. No matter how risky the situation, there’s an undercurrent of denial that a good time could turn very bad in the blink of an eye. Maybe that’s why wars are fought by the young.

Last night, as voyagers were trying to make sense of their Russia experience, the subject of alcohol and drunkenness kept popping up. Based on my own observations, falling-down drunkenness was not widespread. But it did happen. I corroborated this with Dr. Jack Putnam, the ship’s doctor, some SAS staff members and various faculty.

In the post-op conversations about what we did, there were 2 main narratives: one centers on how admirably many – very many – of the students conducted themselves. Professor Amy Bippus, who served as a trip leader for the overnight jaunt to Moscow, praised the students who were with her. Despite delays of travel and meals, she said, the students soldiered on without much complaint. They were respectful of their surroundings. They didn’t misbehave. And they enjoyed themselves.

The other narrative of the St. Petersburg trip centers on the foolish, disrespectful, irresponsible and – in some instances – downright dangerous behavior of a small segment of students. It’s impossible to give percentages. Ten percent seems too high. I won’t even hazard a guess about the exact number of students who did no one proud with their behavior.

Behind nearly every instance of bad or embarrassing behavior lay this fact: the person in question drank too much alcohol.

What is it that makes some students – again, I’m not talking about huge numbers here – binge when we reach port? Is it the youthful sense of invincibility? A problem with alcohol that’s just beginning to surface? A fundamental lack of respect for oneself and others? Is it related to American attitudes about alcohol consumption?

I don’t know the answer. I do know that my conversations with students who enjoyed themselves in moderation were the most interesting I had. Unlike those who spent their mornings “sleeping it off,” the kids who drank moderately or not at all are the ones who have the best stories and most vivid memories of our 5 days in port.

They’re the ones who truly experienced Russia.

PHOTOS:

1. Interior of Saint Peter and Saint Paul Church (courtesy of U.Va. drama professor Lavahn Hoh)

2. and 3. Zach Lockhart, a Florida Atlantic University student, sports his newest t-shirt.

It’s breezy in St. Petersburg today. In several hours, we will blow out of town after a 5-day visit. Before that, at 17:00, we will have a belated 4^th of July celebration on Deck 7 with barbeque and the fixings.

Since our arrival here, conversation has centered on the Russian scowl. Why do the Russians look so gloomy, so dour? Is it a holdover from 70 years of living under repressive Soviet rule? Is it an expression of the Russian xenophobia that we heard about in Global Studies? Is it a consequence of living in a harsh northern climate? Or is it simply part of the Russian character? In other words, is the scowl to Russia as the stiff upper lip is to the British or dramatic gestures are to the Italians?

There may not be one single answer. But to be fair, not everyone we’ve met in St. Petersburg fits the stereotype of the brooding, morose Russian. I talked earlier today with Sean Mobley, a Purdue University student who seems to have a sunny outlook about life in general. He told me that he’s made a point of talking to Russians wherever he’s gone. He mentioned meeting and making friends with the owner of Kafe Geo, a small café directly across the street from where we’re docked. “I’ve gone in there almost every evening and just sat and talked with him,” Sean said.

Today I’ve had my own encounters with Russians who defy the stereotype. The day started especially early. Karen Ryan, the academic dean for the voyage, recommended that I get up early enough (before 4:30 a.m.) to see the bridges over the Neva River in the up position and the ships passing through. So I set my cell phone alarm for 3:45 a.m. and popped out on Deck 4. There it was: the 2 parts of the bridge that I’ve walked across fully upright, with ships passing one by one through the opening.

Afterwards I got a few more hours of sleep and then headed out for my final hours of exploration. I crossed the street and turned toward the Bolshoi Prospekt, a nice tree-lined boulevard with shops and restaurants. I ran into Phyllis Roberts, a lifelong learner from Chestertown, Md., and we teamed up.

We went to a Russian Orthodox church about 100 yards from our ship. It’s not the most ornate-looking church we’ve seen. For that, nothing can top the Church of Our Saviour on the Spilled Blood near the Nevsky Prospekt, St. Petersburg’s “miracle mile.” But our modest neighborhood church has gold domes and the rococo flourishes that we’ve seen on so many buildings – both sacred and secular.

At the church, Phyllis and I opened the massive, carved wooden doors and stepped into a cool, high-ceilinged entry. We each donned a scarf provided by the church. It’s custom, a sign of respect, for women to wear a scarf over their heads when they enter churches. A dozen or so women moved through the worship area. They followed the stations of the Cross, bowing, crossing themselves and lightly kissing paintings of the Virgin Mary.

You can light a candle for a loved one, so Phyllis and I each purchased a candle for 30 rubles (a little more than $1). I asked the young man who sold me the candle the name of the church. He pointed to a painting of the Holy Mother. I said, “The Virgin? Mary?” He nodded yes.

<Phyllis and I walked to the worship area to light our candles. The young man from the front desk approached me and handed me a sheet of paper that gave not only the name of the church (Saint Petersburg Methochion of the Optina Pustyn’ Monastery) but a full description of its history. I thanked him for going out of his way to give me the information. He smiled. This was no scowling Russian.

<Next, Phyllis and I headed to a grocery store. As we strolled along, someone threw a glass bottle from their 4^th-story window. It crashed to the sidewalk 20 feet in front of us, sending bits of glass everywhere. We quickly crossed the street to avoid more surprises.

<The grocery store reminded me of a college bookstore. Upon entering, you must store backpacks and large bags in a locker. The first items you pass are hundreds of vodka bottles. All shapes, sizes and prices. I was more interested in the chocolates and other candy on another shelf. But I ended up not buying anything since I was saving my remaining rubles for one last Italian espresso at Kafe Geo.

The grocery clerk was very friendly. As has been the case throughout this entire visit to St. Petersburg, our exchange with her combined English and Russia words as well as hand gestures. Smiles all around. At the end, I thanked her in Russian: “Spasiba.” And she answered in English: “You’re welcome.”

I’m glad I’ve had this experience, and I’ve had fun. But I will be honest: I’m ready to sail on.

St. Petersburg is like any major city. It takes care, focus and energy to navigate one’s way. And dangers abound. We can’t drink the tap water. We’ve been warned not to eat meat or perishables bought from food vendors on the street. Pickpockets can ruin your day in a second, and drivers generally care little for the rights of pedestrians. The language barrier presents many challenges. And world politics shade over into our small-scale interactions. We’ve crossed paths with some Russians who particularly dislike Americans and said so. Or shouted it.

Being here has shown me what it’s like to be the “Other,” an outsider, a part of a minority. As Rachel Most would say, it’s good for us to know how that feels.

I’ll never forget these days in Russia. To sum up how I feel, here’s a riff on Mastercard’s television ad campaign:

A Trip to St. Petersburg…

• Enjoying a cappuccino on the Nevsky Prospekt: 140 rubles
• Seeing the St. Petersburg Ballet perform “Swan Lake”: 1608 rubles
• Taking a hydrofoil to a royal palace in the Gulf of Finland: 550 rubles
• Knowing you can hold your own in an alien culture Priceless

And here’s a nice first: we turn our clocks BACK one hour tonight!

Our 2^nd full day in St. Petersburg. Some of us are getting the hang of it.

That’s not to say we all get where we meant to go. Some of us succeed, and others fail. The point is, we’re learning the challenges of being plopped down in a culture where most of us don’t understand the alphabet, let alone speak the language. We’re getting real-world lessons in just how much we rely upon words to help us manage the day-to-day business of life, commerce and travel.

And when things don’t go as planned, we’re learning to scale back our expectations.

I was thinking about a recent lecture in Professor Allen Lynch’s Global Studies course. He talked about “laws” and “rules” in Russian society. Laws are known. They’re part of the public record. And they are changeable, according to the whims of the people in power.

Rules are different. They don’t change as quickly as laws do. Rules aren’t public, in that they’re not formally written. But if you live in this culture, you know its rules. And that makes all the difference.   

My day was an example of how I don’t know the rules. This morning three friends and I set off to visit Peterhof, a countryside palace built by Peter the Great shortly before his death. We began by taking a hydrofoil, which is essentially a bus-sized boat mounted on foils, or skis. I’d estimate our speed at about 40 knots. After a pleasant 30-minute ride on the Neva River and into the Gulf of Finland, we arrived at Peterhof.

The grounds and buildings are opulent. There’s a series of deep green gardens with gravel walks winding through them. The sweet smell of clover hangs softly in the air. And then there are the fountains. Many have gold-plated lions’ heads. Others contain statues of fish or figures from classical Greek and Roman mythology. Together, the gold statues, the lush green lawns and the bright yellow of the palace’s exterior create a magnificent effect.

From beginning to end, we followed the laws to the letter. We stepped out of the hydrofoil and dutifully got in line at a small booth to pay the fee required to get off the pier and enter the lower gardens. Near the largest fountain just below the main palace, there were a woman and man in period costume. Naturally, we wanted to take their picture. But the law, printed on a small sign and displayed on a card table near where they stood, said you had to pay to do so. We didn’t want to pay, so we didn’t take the photo.

Next, we climbed the stairs to the main area in front of the palace. Now the question was, where is the line to buy tickets to enter the palace? We found a window on the palace’s front side with a long line coming away from it. That looked like the place where one goes to buy a ticket. We waited in line for 30 minutes or so. Then some SAS students spotted us and came over to say that we were in the wrong line. Apparently, there was a separate line for foreign tourists. No waiting. Just pay and walk right in.

So off we went down the rabbit hole to find the elusive “foreign-tourists” line. We approached a somber-looking young man in a dark suit. He was clearly an employee of the palace. Was this the foreign-tourists line? He barked, “2:00! 2:00!” Since it was 1:15, we figured he meant that we should come back in 45 minutes and stand in line. We’d buy our tickets. No problem.

Long story short, we never got in the palace. The standing in line, the waiting – nothing worked. We found an Australian tourist who, like us, was completely baffled by the system. He pointed to an enclosed courtyard about 20 feet away and said, “Whatever you do, don’t go in there. It’s no man’s land.” And we never found anyone connected to the palace who spoke English. Virginia, one of my friends, spotted a Spanish-speaking tour guide and got the lowdown (Virginia is fluent in Spanish). Since we weren’t with a tour group, our chances of getting in anytime soon were nil.

We had earnestly tried to follow the laws. But it didn’t matter. We failed because we don’t know the rules. Admitting defeat, we headed to the pier to catch the hydrofoil back to the city. So much for Peterhof.

Back on the ship this evening: I was trading stories with students. I talked with Vin Hayes, a University of Delaware student; his friend Alex Malvezzi, who attends Quinnipiac University; and Scott, who had caught my eye during dinner (I watched him smear a huge dollop of peanut butter on his Granny Smith apple).

Alex told me that last night he and Vin were at one of the dockside bars. Sometime around 1:30 a.m., he was approached by a Russian man from Moscow who spoke English. Another Russian man nearby, who spoke no English, wanted to arm-wrestle Alex. Would that be okay? Alex hesitated but after a few moments agreed. Then, he saw the Russian man taking off his shirt. Alex didn’t need a translator to understand the rule. So he proceeded to remove his own shirt.

With that, the match began.

The Russian man was strong, but Alex finally prevailed. With the Muscovite translating, the Russian man then said he wanted a rematch, this time with the other (left) arm. Alex said okay. He won again. The Russian looked at him and said, “Respect.” Meanwhile, Alex said, some American students watching the match began chanting, “USA! USA!”

Nearby, Vin was oblivious to the drama in which his friend had a starring role. He was too busy watching one of the bridges over the Neva River go up to allow ships to pass. Only when he turned away from the bridge and saw his friend putting his shirt back on did Vin realize something interesting had just happened. 

At the end of a long, frustrating day, I took heart from Alex’s story. At least one of us is getting the hang of it here in Russia.

PHOTOS:

1. The Winter Palace — Hermitage — once was Catherine the Great’s palace. Now it’s an art museum.
2. Early morning arrival in St. Petersburg
3. A Tuesday afternoon wedding party visits a city monument.

St. Petersburg IS.

It’s colossal, crowded, architecturally complex, a city that appears to feel good about itself. And for the past 2 days, it’s been drenched with sunshine.

We arrived early Tuesday morning. Once again, many of us – more faculty and staff than students, this time – set our alarms early to watch the approach. Whereas we sailed through a wide channel leading to Bergen, this time we threaded our way between large cruise ships and freighters docked along the canal. Mist hung in the air, and you could see huge cranes and shipping containers stretching for what seemed like miles. Here’s industrialization on a massive scale.

The check-in process was a bit more complicated and time consuming than with Norway. Getting up early to witness the arrival whets everyone’s appetite. After wolfing down breakfast, we were called in groups to the Faculty-Staff lounge to pick up our passports and photocopies of said documents. Then we heard that customs had cleared the ship, which means we can disembark if we choose. The gangway is now on the port side of Deck 2 – a dainty little gangway, not the 48-step monstrosity we had in Halifax.

A long line formed along side the ship and led into a building where our passports were checked again. I said “Hello” in Russian to the woman who scooped up my passport. She neither smiled nor said anything in return. But we at least made eye contact. I need to work on my Russian.

From that moment on, we cast a wide net. Some of us fanned out to different points across the city. Others headed to the train station or airport for trips to Moscow. My plans were fairly modest in scale: I went on the City Orientation tour with a ferry ride on the Neva River.

Built on a swamp, St. Petersburg was willed into existence in 1703 by Peter the Great. After the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, it was renamed Petrograd. Upon Vladimir Lenin’s death in 1924, the city became known as Leningrad. Then, in the late 1980s, after the collapse of the Soviet Union, it reverted to its original name.

If I saw one gold-domed church with yesterday, I must have seen 10. But each time I spot one in the distance, I catch my breath. The gold shimmers in the sunlight. Since I don’t speak Russian, I feel a little tentative. I’m not as likely to walk up to a stranger and ask directions. When I do, it’s usually been a short exchange of hand signals, a nod of the head, and I’m on my way.

As our bus took us through the city yesterday, we came upon a phenomenon you don’t often see in the States. Wedding parties of 20 or more people, with the bride and groom posing in front of monuments and other tourist attractions. According to U.Va. professor Julian Connolly, our trip leader during the Neva River tour, the newlyweds do this to honor their ancestors and national traditions. We happened upon a half dozen wedding parties yesterday, and I saw at least 4 more today.

I’d never thought that a Tuesday or Wednesday morning would be a popular time to get married. The bride always wears white, often an elaborate gown with a tulle overlay and a bead-encrusted bodice. Many are smoking as they’re having their pictures taken. I was told that members of the wedding party have a reason to wish the newlyweds well: if they divorce within a short time (2 years was the time mentioned to me), the bridesmaids and grooms have to pay a tax. I want to check with Julian to see if this is fact.

Last night I joined a group of 235 voyagers to see “Swan Lake” performed by the St. Petersburg Ballet. Since it was a formal event, many voyagers had dressed up — cocktail dresses for the females and coat and tie for the males. (I was horribly underdressed.) We needed help from the tour guide and ushers to find our box seats. The theatre was grand, exactly what you would expect of a large theatre in Russia’s second largest city. A huge center chandelier with crimson red walls and gold gilt embellishments.

The ballet surprised me. It was divided into 3 acts. After Act 2, the students in the box with me were sure it was over. “Not yet,” I said. “The swan has to die.” Imagine my surprise at the end of Act 3 when the swan lives and the villain dies. It wasn’t the Swan Lake story I remembered from childhood. In the bus going to the ship, Executive Dean Jill Wright told me that the ballet is performed nowadays with two possible endings: the happy one and the original sad one. You never know which one you’ll get.

Today I headed out with three students in search of cappuccino and food. Our venture was not a roaring success. By 11 a.m., we’d managed only to find a small restaurant that served cold drinks. While we cooled our heels and figured out what to do next, one of my companions struck up a conversation with a man who entered wearing a camera slung over his shoulder and a guide book. He was an American naval officer on a 40-day leave. He began his trip in Korea and had just arrived by train in St. Petersburg.

We talked our about travels, the SAS program, what we do in our regular lives, and where we’re from. Heading back to the ship for lunch, I thought about language and communication, and how much both shape one’s travel experience. When my fellow voyagers and I met another American – someone with whom we could easily converse – it felt liberating and comforting. But each time we interact with someone who speaks a different language, even if it’s only with hand signals and the stray foreign word or phrase, we expand ever so slightly. At the moment when you’ve understood what’s been said, or you’ve succeeded in making yourself understood, it feels like a triumph. A small moment of supreme satisfaction.

Russia is the centerpiece of this voyage. Its history, economy, politics, architecture, literature, film…everything.

When U.Va. professor Karen Ryan agreed to serve as academic dean for this voyage, she envisioned an itinerary that would engage students in learning about this vast nation’s influence across a broad swath of Europe. Professor Allen Lynch’s Global Studies course reinforces and elaborates upon that point.

Since the ship departed Bergen, conversations have turned sharply from what we did in Norway to what we’ll see in Russia. There’s a heightened sense of curiosity – and concern. Where Norway was one of the safest countries we will visit, Russia presents challenges. We’ve been told not to wander alone anywhere. Ethnic crime is a reality in Russia. We learned yesterday in Global Studies that Russian skinheads will sometimes target non-whites for beatings or worse. We must look out for one another even more than usual.

When we get off the ship, we must carry our passports with us. Don’t even think about wearing expensive jewelry or carrying a large camera or open purse. Carrying no purse is even wiser. Many of us will wear a money belt containing our passport and a single credit card. We’re advised to tuck in our shirts to thwart the dexterous hands of pickpockets.

Despite the cautious mood, we’re excited to see St. Petersburg, reputed to be one of the world’s most beautiful cities. It has 4.6 million inhabitants – the same size as all of Norway. Happily, we’ve heard that the U.S. dollar is doing better against the Russian ruble than against the Norwegian kroner.

Today is Russia Day aboard ship. Classes have been cancelled, which means that many students didn’t stir from their cabins till the midday meal. At 14:00, there’s a panel presentation with Masha Lipman, a journalist who’s visiting the ship and speaking about contemporary Russian life and politics; Marina Markot, U.Va.’s associate director of study abroad programs and a native of Russia; Julian Connolly, U.Va. professor of Slavic languages and literature; and two Russian students sailing as guests.

Then at 16:00, we can take an hour-long beginner Russian language class before enjoying traditional Russian borscht at dinner. After the evening meal, John Lyles, a shipboard instructor and U.Va. graduate student, will talk with us about contemporary Russian culture. He’ll give concrete details about what to do – and not to do – as we explore St. Petersburg and other Russian cities. What should one do on a Russian escalator? Is it okay to make eye contact with strangers on the street? Finally, at 20:00, we’ll have our Logistical Pre-Port presentation to hear more about what we can expect during our 5-day stay in St. Petersburg.

I’m fascinated by the diversity we’re bringing to this experience. As I mentioned yesterday, we have older and younger learners – those who grew up during the Cold War and those who can’t remember Mikhail Gorbachev, the Soviet president who oversaw the dismantling of the Berlin Wall in 1988.

When I think of Russia, I have in mind what I heard about the USSR as a kid growing up in America and what I know about the post-Soviet era. What I DON’T know about contemporary Russia could fill an ocean.

So the panel discussions and conversations with others are giving me a larger context for understanding this complex nation. I talked with Jake, a student from the University of Pittsburgh, who told me that what he knows about Russia is largely based on the American film “Rocky.” Rocky’s main adversary was a brooding, Soviet-style bogeyman. I’m 25 or so years older than Jake, but the Cold War fears of my generation have clearly molded the attitudes of his generation.

I asked several co-voyagers to contribute brief blog entries about their own impressions and thoughts of Russia before we land. I’ve grouped these pre-Russia thoughts in a separate entry entitled “Pre-Russia: In Their Own Words.” In these mini-entries, you can hear directly from several college-age students and a lifelong learner who visited the Soviet Union in the early 1980s. Once we leave Russia, I will ask these and other writers on board to provide follow-up accounts comparing what they saw and experienced on this trip with what they initially thought.

Finally: we’re chugging along in the Baltic Sea. As of noon today, we were 209 nautical miles from St. Petersburg. Other facts:

Average speed: 12.9 knots (about half our speed from 2 days ago)

Distance to nearest land: 21 nautical miles from Tahkuma, Estonia

Sea depth: 86 meters

Sea water & air temp: 14.8 degrees C or 58.6 degrees F

Sunset today: 23:12

Sunrise tomorrow: 04:31

Time relative to home: 8 hours ahead of EDT

As we prepare to land in St. Petersburg tomorrow morning, I asked several of my co-voyagers to write about their pre-arrival impressions of Russia. Some people I asked didn’t have time, since they were busy finishing papers for classes or doing other assignments. Next weekend, when we depart St. Petersburg, I will present a follow-up entry with the writers’ post-Russia thoughts and impressions.

FROM JEREMY FRANK, RISING SENIOR AT CORNELL COLLEGE:

I am not sure what to expect out of our time in Russia. I can feel a certain apprehensiveness in the other students when they talk about it. I was born in 1987. For all of us students, the Cold War is just a word, a relic of an age when the world was a much easier place to understand. Yet Russia still carries a bizarre mystique about it. A far off land, an ideological rivalry that lasted a lifetime, a nation whose entire population where in effect slaves until the middle of the 1800s. What sort of mentality does it breed in a person if their entire history is one of subjugation?

A lot of stereotypes persist about Russian society. While they are no longer portrayed as an ideological menace trying to destroy liberal democracy, the current caricature of the Russian people is hardly flattering. Russians are gloomy, dour, abrasive, brutal and aggressive. The one thing they are never portrayed as is calm or happy. And with the kind of history they have had, who can blame them? Who in their right mind would be happy if the only progress that their nation made for centuries had been at the cost of millions of innocent peasants who gave their last drops of blood to complete the will of the tsars?

Whatever happens in Russia, I am certain that it will be as unusual and as foreign to me as any place I have been. I can’t help wondering how all of these things, serfdom, communism, the cold war and its eventual end, will factor into the equation. We’ve been talking a lot about the convoluted nature of Russian history. Yet from all we’ve read and studied about it, I get the sense that there has been no time in Russian history more complicated than the present moment.

FROM KAILEY BENDER, RISING SENIOR AT THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN – MADISON:

When I saw the itinerary for the voyage this summer one country was obviously different from the rest. Russia struck me as the most exotic stop on the voyage - not exotic in the sense of palm trees and white sand beaches, but exotic nonetheless. I found Russia the most interesting because I knew so little about it.  My knowledge of Russia consisted of the Beatles’ song “Back in the USSR.” Brands of vodka, and large men in fur hats named Boris.

Since being on the ship, I’ve had the opportunity to learn more about our next port stop and this has only increased my anticipation.  I can’t wait to stroll through the Winter Palace, see Red Square, and visit the Hermitage. I know the sights will be interesting and breathtaking but mostly I am excited to interact with Russian citizens and their culture during my visit.  They have experienced a tragic past that I have only just begun to understand and probably will have shocking stories and history to share with me.

Although I have made no conclusions as to what I expect from Russia, I am hoping to find at least one Boris wearing a certain article of clothing.

FROM KYLE MIHALCOE, RISING 4^TH-YEAR AT THE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA:

The name “Russia” has so many meanings to an American politics major from the University of Virginia. On the one hand, I see data, statistics and battle plans, but on the other hand I see children, families and career people. I’m not quite sure what to think about our next port yet.

We have had a few speakers come on the MV Explorer to give us a heads up on what to expect while in port. The biggest thing that I have noticed from these presentations is the stark contrast between the pictures displayed behind the presenter and the words that come out of their mouths. Powerpoint presentations with pictures of beautiful buildings adorned with gold and the signature onion dome turrets have drawn our attention away as the presenters talk about pickpocketing, violence and danger.

I don’t think these people are trying to scare us, but it seems to be making a mark on the students of the MV Explorer. We don’t seem to have the same wide-eyed naivete about personal exploration in Russia that we had about Norway. I don’t mean to be a buzz kill. On the contrary, this country has taught me how to be a responsible traveler. I can’t wait to head into the mainland and learn from the inviting Russian people. One of the things that I’m looking forward to seeing is how the Russian feel about their government and the government of the United States. I think that the Russian people will think that western government is jumbled and too complicated. On the verge of stepping into the homeland of modern ballet, borscht and not to mention vodka, I’m excited to learn where Russian people see their place in the world.

FROM CAROLYN MCCALL, LIFELONG LEARNER FROM AMES, IOWA:

I will record some of the vivid memories I have the short visit my husband and I made 25 years ago to St. Petersburg. As we were coming into port, we saw hundreds of new farm tractors sitting in rows on the dock.

To get the ship, we had to go through three checkpoints with customs. They took our passports and gave us a small red book the size, shape and weight of our passports. My first impression of St. Petersburg from the bus was how gray everything looked – the buildings, people’s clothes, the sky. Even the small piles of root vegetables outside several shops were gray – probably potatoes, turnips, rutabagas, etc. We had just come from Finland, and the bright reds, oranges, yellows and greens of the fruit market there stood in contrast to what we saw in St. Petersburg. The only color I noticed was a faded red in the banners above the streets.

In the morning, we visited the Hermitage, or Winter Palace, which is now a beautiful museum. Our guide was very knowledgeable about the artwork. She was very proud of the fact that during WWII, many of the valuable works of art were taken away and hidden in the mountains. The gardens outside were absolutely beautiful – such a contrast to St. Petersburg a short distance away. The palace’s interior and garden reminded me of Versailles in France.

On the way home, we stopped at a war memorial. It was recessed in the ground. Our guide was also very proud of this memorial. Further on, we stopped at a store for tourists. Only foreign citizens could shop there, and they would take any currency.

That evening we went to a folk dancing program. A short distance from the dock, we noticed a man half lying in the street. He was propped up on one elbow with a pool of blood on the street in front of him. People were walking by on the sidewalk, and no one paid attention to him. There were even several uniformed men on the sidewalk. They, too, paid no attention. No one on the bus even said a word. I didn’t talk to Bill about it until were back in our cabin on the ship. Amazing! I think we were all too afraid.

We didn’t eat in St. Petersburg at all. The ship’s purser, who was Russian, said it would be easier if we came back to the ship. He also said that it was against the law to bring any Russian money out of the country. I had been collecting coins from each country we visited and wanted a Russian ruble. So I kept several in my pocket and was concerned about the whole way home because we were on a Russian ship.

• PHOTOS:
  
• Left: SAS voyager gets a haircut in the Wellness Center on Deck 6.
• Center: Lifelong learner Carol Walker shares a meal with students.
• Right: Members of an “extended family” meet for dinner.

We’re back at sea, but this is nothing like the Atlantic crossing. For starters, we’re passing ships and land masses with great frequency. Also, there’s not the same sense of being alone on the high seas as we had on the passage from Halifax to Bergen. We plowed south along the Norwegian coast in the North Sea. Last time I checked, our speed was 20.7 knots. That’s quite a bit faster than our speed during the Atlantic crossing (average speed then was roughly 14 knots). And, mercifully, the ride is much less turbulent.

No blog about SAS would be complete without talking about the lifelong learners. They are an integral part of the shipboard community and part of what lends a familial quality to the voyage. Lifelong learners are older than traditional college-age students, but with very few exceptions, they’re learning right beside everyone else. They attend classes, either for credit or simply to audit. They also participate in field programs, live, eat and relax with all of us. This voyage includes 42 lifelong learners.

Lifelong learners are part of what makes SAS a unique global education program. No other study abroad program that I know of has this same intergenerational component. In this way, SAS reflects a significant trend in American higher education: the so-called “graying” of the college campus. In record numbers, people are returning to colleges & universities to take courses in subjects that they perhaps never studied when they were younger. To answer the rising demand, institutions are expanding their course offerings for day and evening classes.

Who is a lifelong learner? They’re retirees, educators, professionals on leave and other adults interested in making an educational journey with a diverse shipboard population. On this voyage, we have a fairly broad spectrum, including Carol Walker, a retired detective from the NYPD; Bill and Carolyn McCall, well-traveled retirees from Ames, Iowa; William Wright, a retired public school administrator from Fayetteville, N.C.; Jackie Witcher, the parent of a past SAS voyager; and Ruth Koch, a published author and mental health educator from Denver, Colo.

To encourage interactions between lifelong learners and college kids, SAS offers the Extended Family program. Here’s how it works: lifelong learners and students can sign up to be “family members” who share meals and spend time together on the ship or on shore.

I talked with lifelong learners and SAS veterans Dwight and Jane Allison from North Hampton, N.H. For them, the Extended Family program was one of the best parts of the voyage. “We started with 8 kids on our first voyage but ended up with 15. The relationships we formed with these kids were the biggest thing for us,” Jane said. One particularly memorable Extended Family get-together involved a Thanksgiving dinner in Spain, with 18 in attendance! “I hope we’ve created a memory for those kids,” she added.

GUEST BLOG ENTRY: As our ship was setting sail last night in Norway, I ran into Deborah Bloom in the hallway. Deborah is a rising senior at the University of Oregon. She told me about a day trip that she and an SAS friend, Jenna Treliving, took to Voss in southern Norway. Voss is a bucolic village and center for extreme sports enthusiasts. Here, you can bungee jump, parasail and hang glibe, all while enjoying the beauty of fjord country. I asked Deborah to write a brief description of their experience, which shows why SAS voyages can be so memorable for its participants.

Deborah’s entry:

When we arrived, we walked around Voss for awhile and realized how very, very small this town was. Probably a fifth the size of Bergen, and Bergen itself is pretty small. We then walked to a tourist office, and I explained to them that I wanted to paraglide. They said that if I wanted to, I would have to leave right then. Considering it was only a five-minute walk, I went over to the waterfront and paid for paragliding.

Paragliding is where you are launched off of the top of a mountain and a boat carries you 1,000 meters up in the air where you are sitting on a harness and held up by a parachute. Now, I am usually afraid of heights, but this didn’t scare me. The guy who was steering the parachute even flipped me to the side a few times. It was crazy. I was literally spinning around in circles thousands of feet up in the air. What a great view!

After that, Jenna, Dustin and I got some food and began talking to these five local Norwegians– Joan (pronounced “Yan”), Joanna (“yoannah”), Knut (“noot”) and Ninny. Joan and Knut were married and in their fifties. Joanna was Joan’s mother, and Ninny was the sister of Joanna’s late husband. They ranged in age from the 50s to the 70s.

We chatted with them for about an hour or so, having a wonderful conversation about Norway and our lives back home. Ninny invited us to her apartment, a block away, for some wine. We went with them and sat on Ninny’s porch (which has an amazing view of Voss) while we drank wine and coffee, ate snacks and talked.

They taught us all sorts of different phrases in Norwegian. And we talked about social differences between our countries and our experiences throughout our life. Great, substantial conversation. It was so wonderful that I actually started tearing up when we had to leave for our concert. If I ever find myself in Norway again, I will give them a call. Once we left, they all ran to their porch to wave to good-bye.

PHOTOS:
1. Naeroyfjord, which we saw aboard a ferry on the Norway in a Nutshell tour.
2. A street scene in Bergen. Liz Gushee, a U.Va. librarian serving as the ship’s lead librarian, took this shot. She later realized it was the same scene featured on postcards that we bought.
3. Statue of Henrik Ibsen, one of Norway’s most influential dramatists.
(Photos courtesy of Liz Gushee and Virginia Talley.)

It’s hard to believe, but we will sail from Bergen tonight.

Much of today was chilly and rainy. But that seemed to stop no one. During the past few days, I’ve heard only positive reviews from students, faculty and SAS staff about Norway. Dalfie (my cabin steward), however, finds the weather a little too chilly for his taste.

Despite the fun we’ve had, fatigue has settled over the shipboard community. I’m learning – and I don’t think I’m alone in this – that you have to pace yourself on the voyage. After 9 days at sea, we threw ourselves onto the land and into adventure Norwegian-style. Now, 3 days later, much of our gusto has been spent. We could just use a good night’s sleep.

The ship departs at 21:00 (9 p.m.), but we have to be on board no later than 19:00 (7 p.m.). Randy Lewis, assistant executive dean for the voyage, advised everyone to aim for 17:00 (5 p.m.). Why the 2-hour gap? Because we have to pass through security to re-board the ship, and it can take a while for everyone’s bags to be checked. If you haven’t swiped your card by the 17:00, you will receive what’s known as “dock time.” It doesn’t matter if you’re standing in line waiting to be checked through security. The time of the card swipe is what matters. The penalty is assessed in 15-minute increments: 3 hours of dock time for 15 minutes of lateness. So if you’re 20 minutes late today, you will receive 6 hours of dock time at our next port. Your name and ID number will be entered into the computer system, and you will have to wait 6 hours before leaving the ship in St. Petersburg. This rule applies to everyone: faculty, staff, students, even a lowly blogger.

Back to Norway: the “Norway in a Nutshell” field program that I described in yesterday’s blog was by no means the only shore adventure that has voyagers talking this evening. The field programs ranged from the ambitious (the overnight train trip to Oslo) to the odd (see two paragraphs down). Here are some examples:

Amy Bippus, professor of communication from California State University, Long Beach, took 40+ students on a 2-night tour of fjords and glaciers north of Bergen. I saw Amy shortly after she returned to the ship. She had the thousand-yard stare of someone who’s very tired, but she revived as she talked about what she and the others had seen. She said the glacier is blue because the small bits of debris and other stuff trapped in the glacier absorb yellow and red light. The human eye thus detects only the blue tones.

Some voyagers toured Bergen’s aquarium and loved it. Then there was the leprosy museum tour led by biological sciences professor Iain Campbell. I wondered: an exhibit, yes. But an entire museum?

I’ve chatted with students about what they expected of Norway before seeing it and what they think now. One student – Jeremy Frank, a rising senior at Cornell College in Iowa – said, “It’s what I would like for America to be.” He likes Bergen’s relaxed, easygoing mood. He also likes that Norway has withdrawn its investments in Walmart, whose policies and practices Norwegians have come to find objectionable.

Other students complained about the steep prices in Norway, but liked the lively street scene in Bergen. Kelsey, a student at the University of California – San Diego, worried, though, that she looks too American. She said that as she walked on the sidewalk, she figured people from other countries would take one look at her and know that she’s from the U.S.

Kelsey has hit on something that’s bound to be on many voyagers’ minds.

We came into Norway – and into all the countries to follow – with a sense of national identity. Not every voyager is an American citizen. Some are from China, Hong Kong, Guatemala and other countries. But from the moment we walked off the ship, we took our respective senses of national identity with us.

Semester at Sea is a comparative global education program. Students’ sense of national identity plays a part of the comparing process. In yesterday’s blog entry, I talked about the absence of billboards in the countryside around the fjords we visited. I noticed their absence precisely because I’m so aware of their presence in my home nation. Each of us is comparing what we know about our homes to what we’re seeing away from home. Every voyager is free to come to her/his own conclusions about the countries we visit.

Wednesday morning, U.Va. graduate Virginia Talley told me as we embarked on the Norway in a Nutshell tour that Americans and Brits are very conscious of the etiquette of standing in line. When someone breaks in line, it offends our sense of fair play. Several hours later, my American notions about standing in line came into play.

I was part of a very long buffet line. As I inched my way toward a platter of good-looking pickles, someone cut in front of me. Her arm came slicing through the air, javelin-like, 3 inches in front of my face. I turned to chastise the owner of the arm. It was a woman, probably 75 years old. She was speaking German to a man whom I assumed was her husband. I couldn’t bring myself to pick a fight with her. She looked like someone’s grandmother! Our eyes met, and I detected no shame, no remorse on her part.

I thought of what Virginia had said earlier. For me, it was a mini-lesson in comparative global education. Okay, so not every culture shares my understanding of what standing in line means. In the grand scheme, I thought, what does it matter? And 5 seconds later, I heaped some of the pickles on my plate.

Tomorrow I’ll post brief commentaries from different students about their experiences here in Norway.

1. Top left: View from the fjord at massive cliffs above
2. Top right: Bergen’s funky skyline
3. Bottom left: Bergen basks in the sun - 10 p.m. (Courtesy of U.Va. Spanish professor David Gies)
More photos to come!

We landed in Bergen yesterday morning at 08:00. It seems like a while ago. Many of us set our alarms even earlier than normal so we could see the Bergen pilot jump aboard at 06:15 from his much smaller vessel to assist Capt. Kingston with maneuvering into the port. Before I describe what I’ve experienced in the past 36 hours, I should explain how SAS prepares us voyagers for the arrival in this and every other port.

Two nights before our arrival at a new destination, we have what’s called a “Cultural Pre-port.” It’s a mandatory meeting in the Union for the shipboard community. Here, we learn about the culture of the country we’re due to visit. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I was surprised by what I learned about Norway. It’s the world’s 3^rd largest producer of oil, after Saudi Arabia and Russia. Wisely, Norway has set aside a hefty “rainy day” fund to protect itself from an economic downturn if/when its oil reserves become scarce. And Norway loves peace: in fact, it’s listed as the most peaceful nation, according to the Global Peace Index. Its population is 4.6 million people, and Bergen is its 2^nd largest city (after the capital of Oslo). Norway has a generous universal healthcare and retirement plan for all of its citizens. New mothers receive one year of paid maternity leave. Another important fact: on average, Bergen has rain 270 days per year.

After getting the lowdown on Norway’s culture, we attended the mandatory “Logistical Pre-port” the next evening. This is when you get answers to the practical questions that arise when visiting a foreign nation. How safe is it? Where can you change money, where are the ATMs and how is the U.S. dollar faring in relation to the local currency? Sadly, the American dollar is on the losing end in Norway (roughly, 5 to 1). As the diplomat who briefed us yesterday morning warned, Americans – and everyone else, for that matter – experience sticker shock here. She wasn’t kidding. I paid about $3 for a pack of gum and $6 for a small cup of ice cream (marvelous ice cream, I should add). I overheard students complaining that a Big Mac at the McDonald’s on Bergen’s main drag cost $20. (I wondered, why go to McDonald’s?!)

Today, our second day in Norway, I joined a group of other SAS folks for a tour called “Norway in a Nutshell.” There are the hike and non-hike versions. Today’s was the non-hike tour. I’m still absorbing what I saw. The forecast called for perfect weather. No rain in sight, which is unusual for Norway. First, we took a two-hour bus ride into the countryside. From there, we boarded a ferry and traveled Norway’s famed fjords. They are waterways that snake between magnificent rock cliffs cut by glaciers. Everyone was snapping photos like mad, but pictures can give you only an approximation of the grandeur of these massive grey walls that soar thousands of feet high. Seagulls followed the ferry, swooping down every so often just to taunt us. In the distance, we could see snow fields on the peaks and hugging the shaded crevices.

After the 2-hour ferry ride through the fjords, we landed at a hotel in the middle of what I would call nowhere for a sumptuous lunch. Our group of 90 people descended just as other groups arrived, and the restaurant staff seemed a bit overwhelmed. Eventually, though, we all partook of the huge spread set before us – different kinds of fish dishes, lamb patties, a beef stew, raw veggies, pickles of many kinds, salads, breads with huge slabs of butter and desserts. Plus some of the best coffee I’ve tasted since leaving Charlottesville.

As with many tours, we had to hustle to keep to our schedule. After lunch, we boarded a train with hundreds of other tourists for a leisurely ride back to Bergen. Norway is one of the cleanest places I’ve ever seen. Houses cling to the rock cliffs, and we wondered how the inhabitants get there and unload their groceries. Peter, one of our guides, is a medical student from Zambia. He said that most of these houses dotting the mountainsides along the fjords are summer homes for Norwegians. Evidently, the cost of living is not killing them.

But to call Norway clean doesn’t tell the whole story. It hit me halfway through the day’s journey was what missing: billboards and other vestiges of advertising that clutter so much of the American landscape. What signs you do see are the occasional traffic signs or small signs outside restaurants, cafes and other businesses. The eye is free to focus on nature’s contours and soak in the astounding beauty of water, rock and sky that Norway offers. According to the diplomat who briefed us, Norwegians are a proud people. Carefully protecting their natural resources is one way they express that pride.

It’s evening now. I went for a stroll and was still wearing my sunglasses at 10:30 p.m. The sidewalks on the main street (which curls around Bergen’s famed fish market) is packed with Norwegians, Germans, French, Italians, Americans and tourists of many other nationalities. Some of us SAS people are back on the ship. Others who took the overnight train to Oslo to sightsee for the day will board the return train tonight and return to Bergen in the morning. Tomorrow I’ll check in with others to get details of their experiences, here in the land of peace, fjords and exorbitantly priced Big Macs.

PHOTOS - to be posted soon

It’s 10:30 a.m., and the ship is astir: we see land! It’s the tip of the Orkney Islands, which is part of Scotland. The thing that catches your eye is the sheer cliff with the lighthouse perched atop. Glorious land! Hard to believe that in less than 24 hours, we’ll be walking the streets of Bergen.

We’re scheduled to land at 08:00. Before that, a pilot from Bergen will sail out to our ship to help us navigate the entry. A Norwegian diplomat will also come aboard to welcome us and brief us before the gangway is officially opened.

Night before last, the shipboard community gathered in the Union for a talent show. The room was packed. The opening act featured two of the Global Studies teaching assistants singing a duet from the musical “Grease.” Next, two students, who had met only the day before, performed a Scottish highland dance. As the ship rocked to and fro, they kicked and jumped, never losing their balance or the beat of the music.

Other acts included stand-up comedy, poetry readings (by John Casteen, the essay writing and poetry instructor; Julia Kudravetz, who earned an MFA from U.Va.; and Dan Zoll, a lifelong learner from California) a cappella singing by U.Va. student Kyle Mihalcoe, guitar performances by various students and one of the Teachers at Sea (Eileen Donovan) and a superb piano rendition of “Night Train” by John Mott, the ship’s conduct officer. There was also a brief performance by a young man who stretched his right arm over and around his head to grasp his right ear lobe.

Earlier today I talked with Doctor Jack Putnam in the medical clinic on Deck 2. One of two physicians aboard the ship, Doctor Jack and his wife have sailed on numerous voyages. Each year, they typically spend 4 months at sea. When they’re on land, he’s part of a Seattle-based medical practice. His training was in internal medicine. The medical staff also includes Dr. Rebecca, the other physician, a physician’s assistant and an RN. In hiring the staff for each voyage, Dr. Jack said, SAS looks for healthcare professionals who can provide a balance of skills in seeing and treating patients.

What sorts of ailments do they most often see?

“I tell people that on the ship, anything and everything is going to happen over time,” Dr. Jack said. The most common problems are seasickness and viral infections (usually intestinal disorders) that are easily passed in the ship’s close quarters. “These are things that the passengers bring on board with them. They don’t start here on the ship.”

Alcohol abuse by students has also historically been a problem on voyages. According to Dr. Jack, SAS has tried various approaches to dealing with the problem, including outright prohibition and limiting the amount of alcohol that students may drink. He believes that the current system is showing the best results. Students may have up to two drinks with dinner and up to 4 more through the evening. “So far, we’ve seeing much more appropriate use of alcohol than we seen on other voyages,” Dr. Jack noted.

Other issues that require the medical staff’s attention involve trauma from sports or other activities that people may engage in when they’re on shore. As Dr. Jack explained, students may decide to try an activity – say, bungee jumping or rock climbing – that they’ve never tried before. The trouble is, the environments in which they’re undertaking these riskier activities may not be safe or closely supervised.

In treating sports and other injuries, the ship’s medical team can take x-rays and provide antibiotics and other kinds of prescription drugs. They can also perform minor surgery. But the clinic is not designed for major surgery. According to Dr. Jack, that’s true of any ship, with the exception of large naval ships. “Our intent is not to do surgery,” he explained. “It’s to buy time till we can get the passenger to a land-based hospital.”

I just trotted up to take a look at the latest Bridge Report (issued daily at noon):

Since leaving Halifax, we’ve logged 2,515 nautical miles. We have 308 nautical miles to go to Bergen.

Average speed:              14.08 knots (about 15 mph)

Sea depth:                    74 meters

Sea water temp:            10 degrees C or 50 degrees F -  the air temp is the same

Sunset tonight:              23:40 (or 11:40 p.m.)

Sunrise tomorrow:          4:05