Morocco is far behind us. The MV Explorer has glided out of the turbulence through the calm, yet chilly Atlantic Ocean. We're putting the east behind us, and move west toward Boston, returning to where we live, but not returning to the same lives, no doubt, no matter what we did or did not do, no matter what did or did not happen to each of us on this voyage.
My room was a mess. A pile, a mix of laundry and souvenirs, sat between my desk (
is that what I call this thing?) and my bed. So opening the more gigantic of my two luggages, I got a headstart on packing. I threw in souvenir after souvenir, gently separating them with clothes so they didn't break. The only fragile thing I got was a Turkey mug for my mother, and maybe the teapot from Casablanca. A lot of these souvenirs will be gifts to my families, a lot will go to my dearest, closest friends.
Of course, I get to keep a couple things, too. Lord knows I'm keeping all this Turkish tea and Moroccan whiskey (mint tea, no lie. We can't bring in alcohol to the ship, and I was not about to test my relationships with the Filipinos to see if I can smuggle stuff.) That teapot will look nice in our apartment, along with the tea, and that gigantic bottle of honey I got from BJ's.
But while each souvenir is representative of the places they came from, and the cultures that created them, there's only one single object from this voyage that truly represents my experience. No, it's not one of the seven or so Semester at Sea shirts I got when I ran out of laundry. It's not the three pairs of underwear I got under the same situation (though I must admit, I do like them a lot. Roomy.) It's not the water bottle I bought after feeling like dying in Dubrovnik, or the shoes I got in Italy when my other ones wore down. The souvenir that shares my sentiments on this voyage, yet reveals pretty much nothing about the experience itself, is a simple necklace that I put together myself. On my neck, a small evil eye and a clean white shell hang from a brass safety pin attached to a black necklace string.
The evil eye, a simple blue bead with a circular black and white inlay, is a small trinket given to pretty much every voyager on Semester At Sea this summer by Karin and Geoff, this couple who has essentially travelled everywhere and back. Karin herself travelled on Semester At Sea close to when it first started- the ship back then wasn't nearly as nice as it is today. Anywho, the evil eye, while we saw it in every country after Dubrovnik, is a symbol from Turkey. According to myth, it's supposed to protect you from bad luck- if your evil eye breaks, it means that it threw itself in front of the Hand of Fate.
I like to think that there were times in this voyage where I could've used an evil eye or two... or three... From the first day in Barcelona, I found myself licking my own wounds, piercing my pinky with my own nail as I tripped and fell on a bus. And then there was the Bulgarian left toe incident. (My skin is healed, but the toe is still jammed really well. I can walk on it fine, I can even play basketball in it if I wanted to, but I am just dying for it to heal.) And of course, there are people, who, while certainly not malicious by any means, selfishly look to rip you off on goods. And many an SASer has been victim of a bad cab driver, a pickpocket, a crooked deal, and, from what I've heard from the crew, even a stick-up.
So I wear the evil eye for a few layers of reasons. It represents that I have been hurt, a physical reminder of how bad luck has hit me before. But I like to think of it as a proud showing of battle scars. I've been hurt, but I'm not afraid to let the world know that. The world can see me as an example of things gone wrong, of carelessness personified. But the scars have healed (the toe has not internally, I might have to have it checked out). And with the healing comes a sense of wisdom, an awareness that the world can be out to get you sometimes and that sometimes things are out in place such that if you're not careful, you'll be burned. Ultimately, it will be that wisdom, not the evil eye itself, that will protect me from future harm both at home and in my travels.
Yet on that same paper clip lies a shell, white as snow, smooth as silk, a piece of pure, sheer beauty. Out of all the shells I've seen, from Barcelona to Varna, this shell from the island of Aegina is by far the most beautiful one in my possession. While my friends were tanning or napping, I went out into the water by myself, just to enjoy the water. I found this area where there a lot of fish and other sea creatures- I even found a small conch. Around that area, I saw a white object within the sand. So I left my feet, let my body sink into the ground, and blindedly grabbed a handful of sand before resurfacing. Within that handful, I found this gorgeous object. It's almost a diamond in the rough.
(There used to be another shell on the clip- a shell I named Bloody. As I agonized in pain, while my toe apparently gushed with blood, as my friends surrounded me and prepared to give me care, I grabbed a handful of sand and found a rough, tough shell that was pretty in its own right. It was meant to represent that beauty can be found in tough situations, that there's a silver lining to the clouds. I broke that shell trying to alter the necklace. I was upset when I broke it, but now I'm actually glad that I did it, though. The other shell is prettier.)
No matter what bad things happen to you, or to those around you, there is still beauty in the world, in a number of forms. Sometimes it's in a shell that you find within the sand. Sometimes it's a sandwich on a train after you fasted all day. Or perhaps it's the view of Florence from the mountain above Fiesole. Sometimes, it's a girl with a beautiful smile, walking with you along a beach, then tending to your wounds as you bleed out. The whole world is beautiful if you open your eyes to it.
Of course, I wouldn't dare tell you to run around the world without a care trying to find the one, or diamonds, or whatever your heart happens to desire. But I wouldn't tell you to stay in your room for the world is out there to get you. All that you need to know is that there is beauty, and there is pain. For there is yin, and there is yang, but the yang you find is worth the yin you have to put up with. Don't allow the bad things that happen to you get in the way between you and the beauty you seek. That is the lesson I must pass on to you, and it is the lesson that I remind myself when I see the two trinkets hanging from the new thread that is Semester At Sea.
The thoughts and images of the sporadic Filipino (Australian) American occasionally in the diaspora.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Reflection- The Souvenir
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Semester At SEa
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