August 26 2010 ? MV Explorer/Halifax

I didn’t go to sleep until late, as Julie came in around midnight, and Cassy was on skype and insistent on me sending her dumb internet finds to last her the winter.  Still, I wasn’t sleepy much when I woke up in the morning, as I was too excited to see my new home!  Julie’s father arrived at the room, and after we checked out, they graciously offered to help me bring my bags to the ship.  I accepted, happy to save on the cab fare.  I did, however, make a mistake upon thinking that overcast and foggy was simply overcast and foggy, like in San Francisco.  The rain was warm and breezy, and when I got to Pier 20 twenty minutes later thoroughly soaked, I was a little grumpy that I hadn’t taken a cab.  I looked jealously at everyone else (who were dry) and did my best to keep my pants pulled up.
There we went through security—I filled out a general health form, and my bags were x-rayed.  I was a little nervous, as I had two knives in my bag, one a keepsake James had loaned to me.  But they either didn’t notice or didn’t mind, and after I was wanded and patted down (far more hardcore than airport security), I left the terminal to climb the steep steel staircase to board the ship, which is beautifully blue and white with an orange stripe.  Inside was brown and cozy, with wooden walls, and a lady handed me my ID card that told me where my room was—Deck 2, the Neptune level, all the way in the bowels of the ship.  I’m definitely going to get a workout climbing all the stairs everyday. 
Room 2036 had a note on it “To Stephanie and Ellie” from our supervisor, Donna, that expressed how  much she was looking forward to meeting us, and at that moment, my roommate opened the door.  Ellie is a “zoomba” (dancing yoga) instructor/student from Kentucky, her hair pulled back in a twist with a pretty blue flower garnish.  Meanwhile, I was soaked, with no makeup, my hair pressed flat against my skull, and all disheveled.   However, she seemed very nice, and though she is a morning person and  I am not at all, I feel as though we’re going to get along together just fine. 
We went upstairs where I had a semi-awkward lunch before doing some unpacking before the work study meeting.  Not much was new about the meeting—there was a lot of “you’re professionals, so act like it” kind of stuff.  I also met Donna, who is the Religious/Spiritual… events coordinator?  on board.  When I asked about what an RA does on this ship, she laughed and said she wasn’t really sure.  I think I might be helping with program coordinating, but I’m not sure.  Ellie is in charge of helping Donna with putting on religious programs, so the three of us are going to be a power team.  I hope we work out as roomies, because otherwise we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. 
Donna and I are the leads of the Aegean Sea, which is what halves of different decks are called.  Despite not knowing where the Aegean Sea was at first, it is a very pleasant word to say, so I’m stoked.  We made a “Welcome to the Aegean Sea!” bulletin board, in which I made the banner and Ellie did the beautification/bedazzling process.  It’s simple, but excellent.
After a little more unpacking, I headed out again to find an internet café where I could do last minute emails, as well as find some pens and notebooks for class.  Both, by the way, are impossible to find in Halifax.  The grocery store didn’t have either, and the eco-friendly place I got my notebooks at didn’t have any pens.  I finally found some at an art store after being directed there by a man at the Wired Monk, a coffee shop where I’d grabbed a hot chocolate.  On the way back I glanced inside St. Mary’s Cathedral Basilica (standard—traveling a lot I’ve seen a lot of churches), and saw a security guard salute as the Lieutenant Governor of Nova Scotia (or maybe just Halifax, now I’m not sure) pulled out from his state house in a black car with little Canadian flags on it. 
Ellie had unpacked by the time I got back, and the room looks more homely already, though I forgot to bring pictures with me (hint hint) to put on my wall.  Ellie and I yanked down the picture hanging on the wall to see what past SASers had written underneath—some were scrubbed out, the word “alcohol” being the only thing recognizable.  Others had encouragement toting taco night, adventures ahead, and not listening to the pre-embarkation “scare tactics.”  It was as delightful as candy.
Ellie had volunteered to help with the parent night event, but as I hadn’t read the 80 page required reading on tourism, I decided to do that after dinner.  The food so far is reasonable (not Chapman quality, though), but is not really agreeing with my stomach.  But I sat with four girls I didn’t know that lived on Deck 3.  After, I plowed through A Small Place by Jamaica Kincaid, an essay about how horrible and ignorant tourists are, and how all white people are pigs (especially Europeans).  Going for the “white guilt” approach doesn’t really fly very far with me, so the only two reasonable things I thought she said I almost completely want to disregard.  Apparently many people feel similarly, so I hope that whoever is in charge of organizing the common reading doesn’t think that we’ve fallen in love with the book.
I’d head from Ellie that Desmond Tutu would be speaking at the parents’ night presentation, so I snuck in around 8PM (2000) and took a seat in the Union, which is the main meeting room.  Many spoke, including the president of SAS and the Dead.  Desmond Tutu was hilarious and made me choke up several times, even though I wasn’t his intended audience.  They all said similar things—that we would most likely be unrecognizable when we returned, that a metamorphosis for the better to turn us into more compassionate, caring individuals was inevitable.  It made me really hope I could live up to those expectations, as well as wish I could give my mom and dad a hug. 
Tomorrow we wake up at 6AM (0600) to help with embarkation, and we depart Halifax at 1700 (time to get used to sea-time!).  Not excited about the early wake-up time, but for everything else, I am beyond ecstatic.