I've decided I'm not finished talking about Semester at Sea. I guess the point of going is that I'll never be. I keep thinking about it; what I've seen, what I've done, the people I've met, the culture differences. I really thought I would live differently when I came home. But, really, I haven't changed. The only difference is when I think about those people living in Brazil, Namibia, South Africa, India, Viet Nam, China, I feel guilty and cry. My life is the same except for guilt. Why was I given this privilege? Why was I born in America instead of Africa? What did (or will) I do to deserve this life that Daniel from Namibia didn't (or won't)? He wants to be a doctor; he wants to cure AIDs. But I wonder if he can afford to ever go to college. He lives in a house the size of my living room with his three siblings (was four, but one died) and parents. They don't have an indoor bathroom. But he wants to save lives, to save his country. I ...
Musings from my many travels, including Semester at Sea (fall 2008), Madrid & Europe (spring 2010) and move to Italy (fall 2019).