Day 10--300 Miles North of the Azores

2 September, 40° 35” N, 24° 52”W, course = 108°, speed = 15 knots

We’re about 300 miles due north of the Azores, heading now slightly southeast, at a very modest speed so that we don’t arrive in Spain before the 3rd full class day. This ship is the fastest cruise ship on the water—or so the SAS website says—but for now we’re ambling along on only one engine. The other one and its prop sit idly by waiting to be called into service, I guess, if we run into very rough seas, or the currents turn against us and we’re in danger of not making Cadiz, Spain, by 0800 Saturday morning.

I am hypnotized, transfixed, mesmerized, intoxicated, completely enamored of (by) the ocean. I could and do stand staring at it for many minutes at a time, looking for or at nothing in particular except the water. It’s my reverie. I’m starting to understand how sailors are constantly drawn back to the sea. Its vastness is consuming. I’ve never had the same sense of being totally away from everything—including deep sea fishing trips far out of sight of land—as I’ve had since we left Halifax. The water is a rich, bright, luminescent blue, whether in sunlight, shade, even fog. And when the wind stirs up whitecaps, I stand on the deck feeling like I’m staring down on an endless range of blue mountains dotted with snowcapped peaks. Except the peaks move . . . constantly! I think, when the 109 days of this voyage are over, what I’ll miss more than the places we visit, the students I will have taught, the new friends I’m making and have yet to make, the ship—more than all that, I’ll miss the ocean.

We’re now into the afternoon of B2, the second day of the second academic lesson. The academic calendar is divided into A days and B days because the usual scheduling device—M, T, W, Th, F—doesn’t work when we dock on a Sunday, sail again on Wednesday, and, in the next 6 days have to get in three lessons. I teach an 0800 “A” day class (public speaking), and 1050 (intercultural comm.) and 1500 (business comm.) “B” day classes. So, before Spain, we have 2 more academic days: Thursday (A3) and Friday (B3).

My students all seem bright and eager, though still a little dazed by the surroundings. Last night, the ship put on a barbeque on the 7th-deck around the pool, and the students arrived in multi-colored clothing representing their home schools. There was music, dancing, lots of noise, and pretty decent barbeque ribs & corn. For us old folks, the party ended around 8pm (2000), when we scattered to our cabins to watch movies, read, or prep for today’s classes. For the students, the party went on well into the night and, I’m guessing, this morning. Fortunately, we didn’t lose an hour last night, or the eyes would have been more bloodshot this morning that they were. We won’t be so lucky tomorrow, when we wake up one more hour closer to Europe: ETD + 5.

Had an interesting discussion my first day in the intercultural class. I asked the students to introduce themselves and to finish the statement, “By the time I disembark in San Diego, I hope, by having taken this class, I’m able to [what?].” Some answered what I’d expect: “. . . to have a better knowledge of other cultures”; “. . . to be able to know why they do what they do”; “. . . to get credit for the course.” But several said they wanted to better understand “why the world doesn’t like us.” That’s the post-9/11 generation talking. One young man even said, “I want to know why they can’t accept western ways.” (That’s something my generation might have said too, but would’ve meant something completely different.) With all the discussion about what makes the “millenials” different, I think the single most significant factor is the 9/11 factor. It was their seminal moment, their Pearl Harbor, their Kennedy assassination, their Columbia. I think these 3 classes I’m teaching will be fascinating to experience, not so much about what we learn together about speaking, intercultural communication, and business communication, but for what I’m going to learn about the generation that will be taking over in 20 years or so . . . sooner, if they have their way.

They’re also very impatient. Yesterday in a seminar I attended where the subject was generational differences, a 20-something student said her biggest challenge so far was to find something to do when she had nothing to do. They don’t have reliable web connections, and they have only very, very expensive texting and cell capabilities, the media that they’ve come to expect are ubiquitous. This girl was distressed! But, as she admitted, she was especially distressed to discover how dependent she is on her electronic devices and how lost—and bored!—she is without them. Maybe that learning will be the most significant one for this floating student body.