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Back at Sonoma

It has been a couple of weeks now since I have returned from the 99th voyage of Semester at Sea. Since arriving back at Sonoma, being home has a fresh meaning with a different edge. My seeing the world from a variety of other less resource-intensive cultures has added a bitter harshness to my view of the often wasteful, self-centered ways of this country. Feeling so comfortable in the urban fabric of the less-auto-dominated European cities, seeing Spain's pioneering work in wind and solar thermal development, or using the intermodal transportation systems of Istanbul can make coming home feel uncomfortably foreign and our country feel strangely behind the times.

And then there is another story about being back home. Being away gave me an awakened appreciation of what we have in the States as well as in our home towns. Basic civil liberties, access to information, and clean water at the tap, for example, are now more fully appreciated. I missed the summer in Sonoma, but being so far away from here helped remind me again of the beauty of this place as well as how wonderful it is to be welcomed home by your old friends and a familiar community.

A voyage with Semester at Sea is certainly a life altering experience. It will change your view of where you really live, who you really are, and what really matters in life. While the rawness of the voyage experience is beginning to wear off as the days pass, even two weeks after leaving the ship, when all is silent, I can hear far in the distance a blast of her horn that seems to originate from somewhere deep in my chest.

Shortly after our return I was interviewed on PBS radio.

The Thrill of Bill

We are headed into Virginia, just ahead of a hurricane named Bill. The ship is rocking and rolling, but we are told by our captain not to worry, and we trust him. Never a dull moment with Semester at Sea!

Oh Morocco

It has been a while since my last post due the fact that we got lost in Morocco. Intentionally. We left the Semester at Sea crowd and took the first train out of Casablanca to have a few days of R&R, family style. My wife Shawn has been to Morocco, and she knew where to go --- Fes. Fes el-Bali (Old Fes) is one of the largest living medieval cities in the world and according to the Lonely Planet Guide, the most interesting in Morocco, and with the exception of Marrakesh, Cairo and Damascus, nothing remotely comparable anywhere else in the Arab world.

Its narrow winding alleys and covered bizaars are crammed with every conceivable sort of craft workshop, restaurant, meat, fruit and vegetable market, mosque and medersa, as well as extensive dye pits and tanneries -- a veritable assault on the senses as you squeeze past recalcitrant donkeys and submit to the sounds and smells of this jostling city.

From camel heads hanging on hooks, to young men waist deep in leather dye pits, to olives as far as the eye can see, to colorful spices piled high, to incredible ceramics and Berber rugs (yea we bought one), this place was INCREDIBLE.

We retreated from the hustle and bustle by staying in a beautiful riad. From the outside you would think this place was a filthy cave. Once you got past the elaborate wooden door, you opened into a spectacular courtyard complete with a tinkling fountain, intricate mosaic work, and an open ceiling filled with daylight by day and starlight by night. We drank more fresh-squeezed orange juice and ate more olives in four days than we had consumed the previous year, basked in the call to prayer (5 times a day), and yet again were reminded of the blessings we sometimes take for granted back home.

A personal highlight was my last day in Fes when I decided to visit the public bath. In Fes few folks have baths or hot water in their homes, so once a week they go to the public bath where wood-fired hot water is offered up in buckets and BIG guys scrub/massage off years worth of dead skin cells, and leave you feeling cleaner than you knew you could be. It was wonderful to literately and figuratively hang out with the local men as they argued, laughed, prayed and solved the world's problems while getting clean. They smiled and laughed at me. It seemed to be a combination of "good for you, you ventured where most tourists don't go" and "what, are you crazy, you shouldn't be HERE." Regardless of their point of view, they were kind, helped me navigate the process, and touched their hearts (a typically greeting in Morocco) when I finally headed back to the riad.

Morocco got to me more than any of the other places on this voyage. I felt at home here, even thought I was clearly a foreigner. Strange but true. Of all the places on this voyage, these people have the least, and yet, they seemed to be the richest. This has been a consistent unfolding for me on this voyage. Morocco sealed the deal.

(and a colleague of mine did a simple calculation that helped me gain even more perspective about relative impact -- an earlier blog topic. The fuel each of us used for this voyage equals over 10 years of total energy use by a typical Moroccan)

And now we are headed "home." It's strange to feel that on some level, coming home will feel like returning to a foreign land.

To check out a PHOTO MONTAGE from Morocco, just click on the Oh Morocco link under the photo below. Enjoy!

Oh Morocco

A Taste of Egypt

Egypt was spectacular on many levels. From the impossible-to-describe pyramids (we went inside the largest and for a few moments had it all to ourselves), to the incredible beauty of Al-Azhar Park (a former trash dump turned into a little paradise), to the totally insane reality of daily streetlight (ever seen a cow slaughtered on the street?) -- we loved it all! We've never had so many people give us a genuine "welcome" and so many people try to con us. It was the total package.

Below is a little photo/video montage. Wish we could include music and smells, but you'll have to let your imagination run wild. Just click on the Taste of Egypt link below the photo.

Taste of Egypt

Next stop, Morocco!

Relative Impact, the lessons of more and less

In my sustainable communities class we are exploring in depth the relative impact of the lifestyles and economies of the countries on our voyage. In particular we are focusing on a key indicator of sustainability known as an ecological footprint. An ecological footprint is the amount of biologically productive land and water (measured in hectares) required to provide our needs and process our wastes. At these links you can find out your own footprint or learn the sophisticated methodology behind the concept. One thing we have clearly learned on this voyage is that not everyone has the same impact. In Egypt, we all had a look (perhaps at times it was a stare) at people living on far less than most Americans, Europeans, Japanese, Canadians, and other folks in the so-called "developed" world. We also learned some other lessons about living life to the fullest, regardless of your so-called standard of living. It's hard to summarize all that we learned given the limits of words in a blog entry, but I'll give it a try. Admittedly this is an over-simplification, but I hope to convey the essence of our lessons on relative impact.

In Egypt we learned that people who have next to nothing are often the most willing to share everything they have. Ironically, it seems back home the folks who have the most are often the last to share. In addition, and this is the main point, people living on far less than we do still have rich, meaningful, bountiful, and complex lives. More money and stuff clearly doesn't equal more laughter, good will, and happiness. It's not that the folks in Egypt wouldn't like to have more money and stuff. They would. But in the meantime, this lack of money and material goods clearly doesn't get in the way of living well.

Here's another lesson we've learned. People who are not the cause of the problem sometimes are hit the hardest by the problem. For example, while Egyptians contribute very little to greenhouse gases, because of the impact of climate change on the Nile River Valley (the economic and cultural heart of this country), they are disproportionately suffering from the collective impacts of all of our inefficient, polluting ways (by "our" I'm referring to the 20% of us in the developed world who produce 80% of the greenhouse gases). Here's a message that Egyptians would like us to carry to the rest of the world: please consider them and the impacts of our collective choices when we develop energy policies, purchase a new car (which they can never afford), buy a refrigerator, or elect a president. It may seem hard to imagine, but their lives are directly impacted by our poor choices. What is true in Egypt in terms of disproportionate impact is also true, by the way, for indigenous people living for example in the Amazon Basin or in Sub-Saharan Africa.

Meanwhile, back home, many folks in the U.S. are skipping through life, often unsatisfied with what they have in spite of their HUGE ecological footprint. If everyone on the planet had the same footprint that we have, then we would need another half dozen planets. Last time I checked we only had one. When you travel around the world, the words "we" and "them" seem to lose their meaning. But if we want to make a distinction along these lines, perhaps we should remember the words of Pogo. "We have met the enemy, and they are us." I'm as guilty as the rest of us in the developed world, so I'm in no place to cast the first stone.

I will cast out this idea however. While some in the 'sophisticated, educated North' seem to think we need to teach those people in the less developed, ignorant South a thing or two, well, I beg to differ. Egypt and other developing nations do have a lot of work to do in order to provide a higher standard of living for their people, and they could use our help. Yet when those of us on this voyage experienced the lives of the people in Egypt, we found that they had so much more to teach and offer us. It was a simple yet critical lesson about really appreciating what you have and living a life where less can actually mean more. Perhaps in the midst of looking at their daily reality, we actually saw a hazy reflection of ourselves, and in doing so received a far clearer glimpse into a profound truth to be learned for our own lives.

And for those of you interested in the gory details of relative planetary impact, in addition to the sites noted above, check out this little chart that tells the story quite clearly. It shows the per capital ecological footprint (in hectares) for each country on our voyage. 2.2 hectares/person is the global biological capacity. As you can see, before we hit Egypt, every country we had visited is operating in excess of their "fair share." The final act, the USA, will be the grand finale in our wake up call about relative impact.

P.S. No lecture in the next entry, just some favorite photos from Egypt. Stay tuned!

Posted by rohwedde at 12:54 AM

A Little Perspective, Thanks to Egypt

I just spent a few days in Egypt, primarily in and around Cairo. These few days have given me some precious perspective on many aspects of my life, but especially as it relates to recent employment and financial events back at SSU.

Thanks to a satellite internet connection, I can read the latest news back home and how most everyone is freaking out about the crisis state of public higher education. Some of my colleagues are appalled because most of us at SSU are being furloughed two days per month with a related 10% loss in pay. We get to keep our jobs, and 90% of our salary, as well our health, vision and dental benefits, and our retirement package. Over the net I read the words 'pain' and 'suffering' being written a lot in reference to this unprecedented hardship.

Thanks to Egypt, at the moment I can keep this all in perspective. Here are a few reasons why.

In Egypt, someone in my 'high income position' would make about $600/month. So my less than 10% cut is actually more than what a full professor in Egypt would make in an entire year (with no benefits or retirement package, by the way).

Back home, well over 50% of young adults have some college education from a subsidized public higher education system (thank you American tax payers). Here in Egypt 30% of the adult population is illiterate and students are only entitled to subsidized public education through grade nine. We would also all be shocked to see the state of these K - 9 public schools (as well as the salaries of the teachers).

Back home, we're offering 'cash for clunkers' and the government is giving a subsidy to folks who purchased gas guzzling cars so they can now buy a new, slightly more efficient vehicle. (Hey, I know, it's good for the environment --- and oh yea, the auto industry.) Here the air quality in downtown Cairo is often more than 100 fold higher than acceptable world standards, with more old, funky, exhaust belching cars hitting the congested roadways every day. Nobody is helping you pay for a nicer car. Most people can't afford any car.

Back home the economic crisis means folks aren't eating out as much. Here, many people spend much of their day trying to find work so that they might be able to eat tomorrow.

Thanks to Egypt, for me, 'pain and suffering' are relative terms. Those of us back home needing a little perspective might want to take a quick trip to most any developing country around the world, and witness their pain and suffering. You'll have to see it first hand, because the people on the streets only know it to be this way, so they're not likely to be complaining about it in the press.

I really don't mean to minimize or trivialize the economic situation at my campus or in my country as a whole. We do have our problems, and we will all have to adjust. But in this moment, I think my Egypt-colored perspective is an unexpected blessing. Instead of worrying about my so-called pain, hardship and suffering back home, thanks to this experience with Semester at Sea my heart and mind are instead more appropriately focused on the phrase "there but for the grace of God go I."

A Glimpse into the Heart of Bulgaria

Based on experiences limited to the port city of Varna, it might be easy to typecast Bulgaria as a just another former soviet territory struggling with its' self identity and trying to make sense of a free market economy. After a trip to the rural countryside however, a far richer story emerges. It's a story of people deeply connected to their historical roots, their local community, and what today we might call sustainable living.

As part of an SAS trip to a small village on the Doubroudza plain, considered the breadbasket of Bulgaria because of the many grain varieties grown in the area, we awakened to a glimpse into the heart of this country and the depth of spirit found in its' people. Beginning with our welcome by the town mayor, we knew this wasn't going to be another touristic mob scene. People on the street stopped to greet us, shake our hand, look into our eyes, and welcome us to their special place. We didn't understand their words, but their actions clearly communicated that we were welcome here.

After a visit to the 'community center,' where villagers share books, art, theater, dance and stories, we visited the mayor's office, the local church (where we were moved by hymns sung by the priest), and finally the mayor's home. There we were treated to a 14-course feast of local foods (many of which were grown in their organic garden), prepared in a wood oven, and cooked by the local village women. These same women also shared their circle dances, native crafts, twinkling smiles, lively music, and silly jokes. Each of on this trip came away saying "now this is what Semester at Sea is all about" -- a glimpse into the lives of everyday people where we saw not only the uniqueness of their culture and earth-based living, but also a reflection of our own visions of a slower, more 'simple' life focused on the importance of family, friends, rich conversation, healthy food, and a pace of life that allows us to savor it all.

Here is a short photo montage to give you a taste of this visit. Just click on the 'Glimpse into the Heart' link under the photo below.

Glimpse into the Heart