A Sufi Tale: Some Parting Thoughts

Faculty were invited to give a brief talk at Global Studies on the last day of the class before the exam. A student had graciously lent me a collection of Sufi tales and I took a Dervish story as the basis of my talk. Here it is.

In a gesture of great generosity, Isaac Luttio loaned me a book of the title Tales of the Dervishes. I was anxious to read from the Sufi Masters, for I had had such a disappointing experience watching the dervishes play and dance in Istanbul.

The tale of the gnat and the elephant caught my eye. It goes, One day Namouss the Gnat decided for good and sufficient reasons to move house. He chose the ear of a certain elephant for his home.

Soon he was able to install himself in large and highly attractive quarters. Time passed. He raised several families of gnatlets, and sent them out into the world.

Years rolled past and Namouss the gnat knew the usual moments of joy and sorrow, of stress and relaxation which are the lot of the gnat wherever he can be found.

Naturally Namouss had followed proper ceremony when he moved in. As he moved in he cried, “Oh elephant, know that none other than I, Namouss the Gnat, propose to make this place my abode. As it is your ear, I am giving you the customary notice of my intention.”

The elephant raised no sound and no objection. But Namouss did not know that the elephant had not heard him at all; neither had he felt the entry of the gnat and his various families.

Forgive me for saying this but the elephant had no idea the gnats were there at all.

And when the time came when Namouss decided, for compelling reasons, to move house again, he followed established and hallowed customs.

Namous, having rehearsed his departing words, shouted into the elephant’s ear several times. No answer came at all.

One last time Namouss shouted, “O elephant, know that I, the Gnat Namouss, propose to leave my hearth and home, to quit my residence in this ear of yours where I have dwelt for so very long.
And I am prepared to explain my reasons for departure. So what are your feelings about my departure?”

Finally the elephant raised his great head, trumpeted his response which contained this sense: “Go in peace, for in truth your going is of as much interest and significance to me as was your coming.”

And as we leave, we ponder the elephant and wonder if we are like the gnat visiting the enormous world where our significance is little or nothing. What have we left there that is good, and what have we taken that we can use to better our world?

While I do not know that answer to this question, I do know that I now see our world with greater perspective, humility and awe.

I will act more thoughtfully and carefully, and always remember that Gnossis the Gnat still lived a good life, even when the elephant refused to acknowledge him.

I’ve been to ten countries; I’ve seen the world, but part of me feels like I’ve just watched an ambitious National Geographic Special on tv, with breaks for popcorn, and ice cream, swirled.

The trip confirmed for me so much I already knew, how small but important my power to save one man, one woman, one child is, to mend and heal what is broken and within my reach.

The Search for Common Curriculum on Ship

Semester at Sea has set for itself an ambitious academic goal, each student taking three demanding three hour courses and a three hour common course called Global Studies. Global meets every day the ship sails, for forty-four days total, each day for 75 minutes, 600 students deposited around the ship, in a large theater, in ten classrooms, in a popcorn/piano lounge. The question: how to do this in relevant and compelling ways, ways in which students and faculty will stay interested and gain meaningful information that enriches our travels and lives.

The problem this voyage? It didn't work as well as we had hoped. I thought about all this intensively for most of the trip, and wrote two epistles, sending them to various powers that be on and off ship. Here, for the elucidation of my dear readers, they are. Let me warn you: this is a long treatise. Skip it if you tire easily of one guy's ranting. The pictures are of the Global Studies coordinator political scientist Prof. Dick Farkas and of one faculty member, psychologiest Prof. Tim Kasser and his panel of kids on International Day of the Child, meeting for Global Studies.

Installment One: Written about one month into voyage, in hope that putting my concerns into words might effect some change.

27 Sept. 2006

As I watched Dick (Global coordinator) try valiantly to fill Tuesday’s seventy-five Global Studies minutes with interesting and important thoughts on Vietnam, I began to wonder about how much student learning is going on. I’ve spent the better part of the last month watching students in satellite classrooms and the piano lounge during the GS time, and have to conclude that, in spite of the worthy efforts of Dick and all the other lecturers, the current GS model is not working. Most students turn the lecture off after twenty or thirty minutes and then turn to their computer screens, on which they are not recording their notes on the lecture. Let me try to explain why I think this happens and why GS needs more alteration.

First, some premises, assumptions, principles:

First, long lectures, even in the hands of charismatic teachers, are associated with decreasing attention. The human attention span is very short, probably less than ten minutes. I will not advocate that we cater to that, just that we acknowledge it. It’s something that will not be able to change. It is something that can be incorporated into a revised plan for GS.

Second, long lectures impart information that is retained for short periods of time. Another way to put this is to say that what is learned is quickly unlearned, unless it is immediately reinforced, processed, manipulated, internalized, adapted, accommodated, etc. Long lectures offer little or no chance for such processing.

Third, individuals learn and retain more when it is actively discussed, written about, manipulated, etc. This means rather immediate processing, not delayed for one or five or more hours. By that time, details have been forgotten, short term memory has failed. The “I’ll be in classroom 8 at 5” solution is not a solution. Sure, some students do take advantage of this opportunity, but the majority do and will not. And a seven hour delay is just too long.

I believe that education happens when three things are present: one, information; information can be presented through lecture, reading, research, etc. Two, skill; skills develop when individuals manipulate information repeatedly with a coach to give expert feedback. And three, individual understanding. Understanding happens when information and skill get married and internalized by individual learners. (Credit to Adler, Sizer)

I believe that there’s a way to capture all three of these components in GS, at the same time that the larger chunks of the entire SAS curriculum become more fluidly interconnected.

Two things would have to happen:

One, faculty would have to get together to discuss the common curriculum. That would mean that the entire faculty would, under Fil’s leadership, decide on common themes, common books, common films, and some common dates. This may be near impossible now, but perhaps doable for the future, for future voyages. As a result of such collaborative interaction, important parts of all or most courses, as well as GS, would address certain texts (books, films, articles, poems, artifacts) or issues or themes at approximately the same time. (City and school common book experiences come to mind.) A more cohesive total curriculum would advantage the students and intensify the learning because it would provide the opportunity for students, faculty and staff to see a particular issue from the perspectives of several disciplines, which, for me, is the very essence of a liberal education. And it would focus most classes and GS on a more limited set of ideas, allowing for more intensive examination of those ideas.

Two, GS would offer shorter lectures in “active” learning environments. By active learning environment, I mean places where the lecturers’ audience would have more timely opportunities to process the content of the lectures.

I can think of several ways this timeliness could happen:

A. Every 15 or 20 minutes, the lecturer would pose a question or define a problem that arises out of that particular lecture. Students would then be given five minutes to discuss it with those who are sitting around them. Faculty and staff would be strategically placed in classrooms to enhance these. I’ve seen this work wonderfully well in large group settings of 300-600 in an audience.

B. The 75 minute GS period would be split into two parts, 35 minutes of lecture and 35 minutes of small group “active” learning (with five minutes for group movement). Faculty paired with staff would meet with these small groups in classrooms and open spaces. Each 35 minute lecture would be connected to a preplanned activity in these small groups; these would include things like role playing tied to social conflicts in particular countries, values clarification exercises, examination of case studies, games, reacting to discussion questions, etc. Lecturers would plan these active learning opportunities.

C. I’ll call this the Anthropological/Ethnographic approach (credit to Joan for this idea), where students become researchers in the countries they visit, creators of information, instead of just consumers of information (which is what they are now in GS). This seems to be the most radical of these three approaches, and certainly the most challenging. Obviously, at least two things would have to change from the present arrangement: the in-country or on-ship research that students do would demand that they present their results AFTER they return from a port visit. The practice now seems to be that post-port, the focus moves to the next country; and GS would have to equip students to ask good questions and to gather information. Can you imagine a presentation on “How to see a market” or “What to look for during a home visit”?

The 50 question testing approach, geared to an emphasis on student control and information consumption, would not fit this new model. I have serious troubles with the short answer test, even as one must acknowledge that it seems to fit the necessity of large group education. The normal distribution curve results we saw a few weeks ago destines 50% of the student body to grades of C and below. That defeats and discourages students, a cost much higher than the benefit of learning what one knows or doesn’t know. I believe that most or all students can be successful learners, even in GS type classes.

If something like approach B (with two 35 minutes periods) were used, attendance and completion of small group exercises would be sufficient for a passing grade (I’d drop the letter grading and move to a pass/fail system). The pass/fail system with active learning would increase both student and faculty morale, decreasing student apathy and resentment. Pairing faculty and staff in the small group discussion/case study/role playing/game sessions would bring faculty, students and staff closer together and enrich the total learning environment.

Let me be clear: I am not against lecture. I believe that lecturing is a wonderful way to present information and inspire, but only when it is in the hands of a competent and knowledgeable speaker, and when it is paired with active learning opportunities like I’ve sketched out above. But the most compelling reason to seek some of the changes I’ve suggested is the need for GS to offer a more common curriculum and to reflect a more diverse set of learning styles on the part of students. (Gardner, Bruner) I don’t believe that fully half the students cannot learn with excellence in GS, and be rewarded for it in the form of higher grades (or simply passes). I do think that faculty naturally lean toward lecture and are often lacking when it comes to trying out alternative and more creative, engaging curricular strategies. I’ve noted that faculty sometimes resist innovative teaching based on an unfortunate and blanket demeaning of pedagogy, or just ignorance thereof.

Many faculty probably fear that opening up the GS lecture to student interaction and increased ownership would lead to chaos. From my own experience I think the opposite is true. Faculty, students and staff can be educated to “make” such a plan work, engaging more students in learning. In fact, I think the risk of disaster is much greater under the present system, where student questioning is suppressed and marginalized. Further, as some other faculty have mentioned, letting UVA shape the curriculum in absentia is highly counter-productive – it’s the faculty, students and staff on board the ship who know what can and will work. We’re seeing a dangerous form of micro-management.

I hope this note puts some bones on earlier statements I’ve made about Global Studies and helps us all to see and enact a more workable and successful course of study.

Installment Two, written close to voyage end

Rethinking Global Studies and the SAS Curriculum
11-16-06

By now, week twelve of fall 2006, it’s clear that while Global Studies has stabilized and student resistance diminished, the form that it has now taken, and the form established for the past decade and more, is outdated and dysfunctional. It is time for a collaborative assessment by the faculty and, with agreement, for communication to ISE of some alternative action for future voyages. The reason an assessment is needed is that GS is an educational “dinosaur. “ I’d like to explain why I think it has failed and to spell out some more workable alternatives. I do not think any failures of the program are centrally attributable to its director. Given the form GS has persisted in over the years, any director will face an almost impossible uphill battle, unless the assumptions undergirding the program are examined, challenged and changed. I certainly don’t have all the answers, but I think I can raise some important questions.

The Problem: As I explained in my first note (see note of Sept. 27 sent to Fil Hearn and Dick Farkas), “bulking” and “loading” information into students’ heads, in the form of 75 minute single-faculty or multiple-faculty lectures, even with 10-15 minutes of time at the end left for questions, or a five pm classroom follow-up for anyone who want to come to raise questions, leaves no real time for student reflection and processing of information. And such bulking through lecture is the form GS has taken for many years, the dinosaur. Couple that with four 50 question multiple choice examinations and demanding lectures that ask for complex conceptual understanding and memorization from students, many of whose minds cannot grasp such complexities, and one is asking for trouble. Assuming that learning happens merely through the accumulation of information via reading and listening, in the absence of time for active reflection, analysis and synthesis, is flawed. Decades of scholarship have replaced such an assumption with more workable alternatives.

A conversation with F06 psychology faculty member Tim Kasser about the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi puts these thoughts into clear terms and offers some alternative assumptions about learning. Csikszentmihalyi studied the “flow” which engaged persons experience when deeply immersed in a task and suggests that learning requires personal investment on a task perceived as interesting, meaningful and challenging. In contrast, GS requires students to internalize immense amounts of information without offering them opportunities to practice and master the skills required to do that and far too often results in anxiety and/or boredom. We see those results in the diminishing attendance at GS, the continuing bad feeling, the low scores on the examinations, and the occasional outbursts from students.

Further, cognitive psychologists tell us that individuals can hold only two or three complex ideas in their heads at one time. Each portion of one GS lecture presents that and more. Tim’s idea, which I think is right, is that GS needs to begin with a central narrative, a story contextualized in global issues, with human figures and problems, which touches on the various perspectives and disciplines of the subject matters represented in the curriculum. A common book or film could present this effectively. This approach could be modified into three or four narratives, each connected to an issue or debate topic, or to a book read in common. Certainly topics like environmentalism, globalization, religion and the state, women’s roles, poverty and human rights come to mind. With lectures on the visited countries and foci on a limited number of issues, and with space for substantive discussion, an alternative to “bulking” of information could be found. But there’s a better option than this.

Solution I: I believe that a viable alternative to the GS dinosaur is a non-graded Cultural Literacy Events course, modeled after Berry College’s Cultural Events Requirement for graduation. At Berry (see www.berry.edu/provost/culturalevents/CErequirements.asp) students are required to attend three approved cultural events (lectures, films, panel discussions, concerts, etc.) each semester and a total of twenty-four before graduation. Underlying this requirement is the belief that “liberal learning should be a process of continuous exploration of ideas and cultural meaning that continues outside the classroom.” As the attached chart suggests below, such a plan, offering only credit (1-3 hours…this needs some discussion) for satisfactory attendance and no grades, would maximize student ownership and engagement while minimizing resistance and resentment. It would acknowledge that different students learn in different forms and not assume that all students can absorb and synthesize massive amounts of lecture-information.

I think this model would work with one important addition: a geo-political-historical introduction to each country, probably in the form of lecture (though important films could be added to the required events) should be required of all students. If 1-2 days for each country were required, out of a total of 33 events, 10-20 days would be required, leaving room for 13-23 chosen events. Where students failed to attend required events, two chosen events would be added to their required attendances. This addition would cover the best of both worlds of learning, the necessary information for informed travel, and the opportunity to select sessions that appealed to and engaged students.

Another compelling reason to alter GS is that most SAS students are not and will not be classified as Honors. The lecture approach (the dinosaur) assumes certain student qualifications: high verbal skills, high GPA, high ACT and SAT’s. Ours are good but academically rather typical students. I’d guess their average ACT is 22-24. Without more stringent admissions requirements, that will not change. I’d guess that only about 30% of current students can “succeed” with a lecture-dominated course pitched at such a high conceptual level. Such an approach destines most students to impaired learning and continual disappointment.

Additionally, as Tim Kasser reminded me, the great majority of lectures have been from the social sciences, appropriate to the introductory geo-political orientations. But the arts and humanities have been sacrificed, in part because they do not naturally lend themselves to the lecture format. An Events curriculum would overcome that, as would a multi-venue setting. Films, for example, have been seriously under-utilized on our trip. By mid-trip, films were regularly shown on shipboard tv at 9:15 every evening, but this rich resource was rarely incorporated into classes and GS, and was never discussed or planned by the faculty as a whole.

Finally, a comment on the merging of lower and upper division students in GS: I’m certain we have a mixture of these two groups, and have heard that this voyage, we have more lower division students than would be normal. An Events curriculum would offer students choices that could fit their skill and understanding levels, e.g. a wonderful Foucault-heavy lecture by Prof. Don Heinz on the Islamic head scarf, advertised in advance, would attract students ready for such a conceptual and lexical vocabulary.

Solution II: If a cafeteria of Cultural Literacy Events geared to both global issues and visited countries is unworkable, I think keeping the GS course but altering its methodology requires a greater investment in faculty. The responsibility should not fall predominantly on the back of one person. More faculty would make room for small group discussions; for example, consider most large introductory courses that have graduate-student, small-section discussions. If four faculty shared responsibility for the course, it could take one of the forms I spelled out in my first letter. At its simplest, A days could be for lectures, B days for reflection, individual and small group engagement. Or lectures could be shortened to 35 minutes, with another 35 for discussion in small groups. F06 art faculty Larry Silver’s idea that subject matter be split into four areas (the arts, politics, etc.) is good, and students would choose one of the four, GS/Arts, GS/Politics, GS/Service, etc. Lectures would then happen in more manageable groups of about 150.

I also like the idea of modeling at least one part of GS on the U.S. residential learning community movement (for a start see pcc.bgsu.edu/rlcch/index.php#definition) This would invite students to join one of several residential communities (cf. Seas) based on their interests or majors (service, politics, the environment, Asian studies, the performing arts, etc.) They would take at least one course in common (one section of a topical GS), have a faculty mentor living in their midst, and interacting with him/her and the Sea community often outside of classes.

I think having the entire community focus on one or more common books throughout the semester would overcome the information fragmentation and offer opportunity for the development of a less disjointed and more cohesive, vibrant and sustained intellectual community. Books like these come to mind as suitable, though I’m sure other faculty would have great ideas:

Karen Armstrong, The Great Transformation: the World in the Times of Buddha, Socrates, Confucius and Jeremiah.
Samuel Huntington, Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of World Order.
Thomas Friedman, The World Is Flat.

The common book movement, popular in hundreds of American cities and universities, is evidence of both the need and the efficacy of a common intellectual center used to enrich education and overcome human separation and specialization.

I believe that we learn by making our perceptions and views of the world, the mental apparatus we use to comprehend (some cognitive psychologists call these our schema) more complex. We add new bits and pieces of experience and information to our minds, assimilating, accommodating and modifying our assumptions and beliefs. When new information comes in and there’s little or nothing in our minds to alter with that new information, we panic, or just put ideas into short-term memory banks, which dissolve within minutes after a test or hearing. Frequent and active examination of case studies, critical questions with resulting discussions, role playing, debates, games that represent complex cultural problems: all of these should demand mental engagement that is timely, value-laden and has the potential of being relevant to the learner. And all of them invite learners to build chunks of information, rather than memorize bits. Examples of debate topics follow:

Is globalization a good thing?
Is the cost of globalization too great for the environment?
What can we do about the increasing population problem and the shortage of resources?
Are the Muslim Brotherhood and an Islamic state good?
Are head scarves worn by women in their best interests?
Should Turkey be admitted to the EU?

These questions are no mystery to anyone involved with the fall SAS trip. What is surprising is that there’s really no forum in which students must confront these topics in order to explore them in depth.

Frankly, the Cultural Literacy option came to me well after I had thought extensively about keeping GS as a 9:20-10:35 required common course, but with a more progressive pedagogy (Solution II). But the more I examined the costs, human and economic, of such action, the more I feared that they could be too high. I’ve heard it said so many times that GS always generates student displeasure; I’m sure that’s true, but I do think that students want to learn to enrich their travels and that the right pedagogy can undo most of the resistance. So I urge that a Planning Committee be appointed, gathered in Charlottesville, to chart some new GS waters, and that the Cultural Events model (Solution I) be given serious consideration.


Global Studies Now Cultural Literacy Events

Offers 44 required lectures with Offers + or – 44 lectures,
minimal opportunity for active panel discussions, films,
discussion, questioning and re- book discussions, musical
slection at 9:20-10:35 every events, poetry readings,
A and B days plays at varying times on
A and B days

Privileges one learning method- Offers learning thru a variety
ology, lecture of venues

Occurs in Union live with tv broad- Occurs in Union, classrms,
casts in satellite classrooms cafeterias, piano bar, pool
areas with live facilitators

Sttudents have no choice of events Students choose a limited #
to attend of events to attend (44?
If greater engagement oc-
curs, a lower number
makes sense…33?) This
allows for greater owner-
ship thru identifn of student
needs and interests

Requires students to take four Attendance at X # of events
50 question multiple choice exams. Gives students X # credit.
For F06, about half the students Attendance taken by student
scored in the mid 60’s or below handing in Cult. Lit. cards at
out of 100. end of session.

Spain: Hills Like White Elephants

SPAIN:HILLS LIKE WHITE ELEPHANTS

Spain.—our very last port before home and it seemed pretty “easy” to delve into after the exotic ports and difficulty of communication in the Asian as well as other ports. But also, it was familiar; only four years ago we traveled with John and Hilary, Tom’s brother and sister-in-law, and though we visited a new city, our port city o0f Cadiz on the tip of Spain, we also revisited the town of Granada and its famous site, the Alhambra.

We spent the first two days in Cadiz, exploring the especially beautiful parks, many with gorgeous ocean views and botanical specimens from all over the world. Many of the trees came from the canary islands—and one they called a “ficus” was especially lovely—huge, huge entertwined trunks and branches (almost like a baobab) and big shiny leaves that looked like magnolia leaves. Of course there were Mediterranean palms and cactus and flowering shrubs (even though it’s winter here –it was still 60-70 degrees although VERY windy by one of the old castles, Santa Catalina whose appearance made us realize where the California “mission style” comes from. We toured the old town and its many shops and cafes and pedestrian shopping center, saw the remains of bodies from the Inquisition still plastered into old walls and were indeed awed by its mammoth cathedral—built of limestone and stone of petrified shell—in all of its baroque glory.

Inside it is beautifully baroque but almost entirely white—white stone and white columns and unlike most of the other cathedrals, the candlesticks and tabernacle and monstrance and trim was make of silver instead of gold . In the basement was a gigantic crypt with lots of saints and dignitaries buried there as well as a chapel to St. whose still “pure” body rested relatively uncorrupted in her glass reliquary for all to see. I must admit I’ve seen more relics of Catholic, Orthodox and Muslim holy people than ever before—or maybe just more multi-faith ones. And the cathedral museum had many costly and carved ivory and gold and embroidered church garments and crucifixes and tabernacles than I could have believed hadn’t been sent to the Vatican and its museums. The ivory pieces were huge and finely carved. Unfortunately, lunch time here is about 3—and dinner starts at about 9:30 and we could never find open restaurants at a time we wished to dine. It got dark at about four and the stores mostly all closed from 2- 5:30. Evidently they don’t take a siesta but do have their main meal then. We kept hoping someone would take us home for dinner!

The next three days we spent with Val and Roger Vetter,; he’s an ethnomusicologist who teaches at Grinell in Iowa and Val teaches T’ai Chi and ethnic dance. We took the train from Cadiz to Grenada so we could re-visit the Alahambra and the Moorish section of Albaicin. The trains in Spain (are mainly on the plain)—sorry, I couldn’t stop myself. Anyway the trains are comfortable; however on part of the journey we were annoyed by a group of adolescent hoodlums on their way to play soccer. They held LOUD constant conversations, smoked in the non-smoking train, stuck feet on windows and seats, threw things at each other, argued and went constantly to the bathroom—to smoke and/or shoot-up perhaps. No Spanish people said a word to them; I think they were a bit afraid. We complained but the conductor would “speak” to them and leave fast for a different car. But we got there, found a nice if not charming hotel and went sightseeing.

The next day we went up the huge hill to the palace buildings and fortress of Alhambra, reconquered by the Christians in 1492 while Christopher Columbus was busy exploring and Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand then expelled all the Jews and any Muslims in th4 area. Washington Irving, a romantic American writer was a diplomat here in 1829 and lived for a.while in rooms in the palace. It was probably his description in his Tales of the Alhambra that led to its renovation and its historical prominence . Actually his descriptions of the place still ring true, This is how he describes the famous Court of Lions:

There is no part of the edifice that gives us a more complete idea of its
Original beauty and magnificence than this, for none has suffered so
Little from the ravages of time. In the center stands the fountain famous
In song and story. The alabaster basins still shed their diamond drops,
And the twelve lions which support them cast forth their crystal streams
As in the days of Boabdil. The court is laid out in flower beds and
Surrounded by light Arabian arcades of open filigree work, supported by
Slender pillars of white marble. The architecture, like that of all other parts
Of the palace is characterized by elegance rather than grandeur, bespeaking
A delicate and graceful taste and a disposition to indolent enjoyment. When
One looks upon the fairy tracery of the peristyles and the apparently fragile
Fretwork of the walls, it is difficult to believe that so much has survived the Wear and tear of centuries….

It was a cold afternoon yet the palace and its decorations were worth a bit of discomfort. Afterward we went back down the hill for a snack—the wonderful hot chocolate and churros (for dunking) of southern Spain. Later that evening after a late (for us) dinner, we went to a small Spanish bar for real Flamenco—a great guitar player, male singer and female singer and dancer. The stage was tiny and the audience right there crammed in with drinks (and cigarettes) and sweat to watch this non-tourist performance for real aficionados. We were told that in the states while the cars whiz by broadcasting the deep bass of hip hop and rap, the young people here turn up their flamenco and bounce in their cars to this beat one that really didn’t get popular until the 1920s but still remains.

The train brought us “home” to the ship in Cadiz the next day, minus the soccer players to our infinite relief. Now…ten days across the Atlantic. We’ll see you all soon!!

DK

Dubrovnik, Korcula, Croatia...Five Days

Five days in and around Dubrovnik, Croatia. In our shipboard Croatia guide, passed out 2-3 days before arrival at a port, there a seriously truncated section on cultural and political history, likely a significant omission. I’ve been trying to understand the last 25 years of the former Yugoslavia’s history for almost that long…warring religious, ethnic and nationalist groups, an embattled people in a spectacularly beautiful mountainous land, little or no industry besides tourism, which in the port city of Dubrovnik brings in 550 cruise ships in the summer and almost none after October. In a class exercise, where I asked students to write a phrase that captured the essence of the culture they had just visited, I wrote about Dubrovnik “an opulent, dramatic geography along the Adriac Sea with deep currents of human turmoil—anger, depression, sadness, fear – the fuse for more violence?”

The recent history is easy to recite: after the fall of Tito’s socialist state in the 1980’s, which many locals told us was good for Croatian life, just and economically sound, the Republic of Croatia proclaimed its independence. In October 1991, after Croatia sought its independence, Serbia attacked Croatia with tanks, war ships and guns. The Croats were mostly defenseless, lost 43 citizens, and sustained extensive damage. Given the severe power of the Serbs and the Montenegrins, who intended to burn and destroy the territory completely, perhaps partly to gain access to the Sea, the gorgeous city of Dubrovnik was hit hard and the city itself was in the enemy’s total encirclement for eight months. Much of that time, Croats had no food or water, no power, while the UN tried to intervene. The scars are still deep, as we heard, unsolicited, from four or five native Croats and even some Serbs, who live in Croatia. Imagine: you’re a Serb living in Croatia while your brother is in the mountains or at sea shelling your home.

We were warned by our shipboard interport scholars and students, Don’t raise the topic of the war. But we couldn’t avoid it: one of our tour guides entertained us with a three hour rant, mostly about the current corrupt government, holdovers from socialist days, the priesthood in cahoots with the government, and the economic and human cost to his own life of the war.

We roamed the rocky coastline and the Old City a lot, went on a splendid service visit to the main Orphanage and the Dubrovnik City Hospital. We were able to meet director and many of the teachers, as well as the children, at the orphanage. Had a great seafood dinner at Lokande restaurant.

Turkish Delight: Five Glorious Days in Istanbul

Whether it is because Istanbul has very likely the most visually spectacular harbor in the world, a European flavor (even though 97% of Turkey is in Asia), spectacular mosques and museums, fewer veils and headscarves on women than in Egypt, Turkey as one of the US’s most strategic partners, or great shopping in age-old bazaars, we loved it. We didn’t get out of Istanbul…didn’t really see much of Turkey, but knew we had to come back. Perhaps more than any predominantly Islamic country, Turkey is a model of democratic secularism and a viable candidate for the European Union, resistance to which many faculty on the ship say is a form of bare-knuckled prejudice against Islam. (Tom and I are writing this together and I'm not sure I agree with his political assessment but we can discuss that later when we get home!) I DO agree with the fact that we did love the city even though we didn't expect to, a humungous city of 17,000,000. Yep--the number of zeroes is correct! We could not figure out where everyone lived since in the Old Town, a very large area, there are no high rises. However we took a ride on the tram (great public transportation) all the way to the end of the line and did see some city squalor and huge high rise apartment buildings that seemed to be falling into decay even though brand new ones were being built right next door and none was very old. Based on the friendly people, the great food (especially the shish-kabob, and the helva), the endless walking around Kapali Carsi Bazaar, the Spice Bazaar, Hagia Sophia, Topkapi Palace, the Sultanahmet Mosque (the Blue Mosque), the Hippodrome, the city of Taksim (a short tram and then funicular ride from our ship), and the Mosque of Suleyman the Magnificent, we couldn’t get enough of the city, Europe’s largest. The mosques, particularly those built by the architect, Sinan, rivaled some of the cathedrals in Europe--just different while still beautiful. Tom also found "bead heaven" two long streets of wholesale beads in silver and gold and precious and semi-precious stones and glass ....most to our amazement had still been made in China!

I spent a morning with a shipboard friend while Dianne slept(knocked out from a sea sick pill). Rich, an interesting guy, both a documentary maker and a bee keeper, and I hopped on the tram for a short ride into downtown Istanbul, with the intention of riding it to the outskirts of the city to let what happened happen. Three quarters into the ride we saw an antiquated sign on an antiquated building which read Istanbul University. We consulted quickly and decided to hop off to visit the English, Entemology and Film departments.

Little did we know that Ist. U. has multiple branches located all over the city and that we stood at the gates of the Medical campus. Undeterred, the third person we asked for directions from was a PHD candidate IN the British Literature Department, and he kindly wrote us the names of two head professors in that department on our notepad, sent us packing back to the tram. Three stops later we exited, found another University entrance, this one heavily blocked with guards. We spent almost thirty minutes sweet talking them into letting us through the hallowed gates. The scribbled names of two profs were ouro ticket, and four phone calls to the Brit Lit department got us a pass. Three custodians later, we were sitting in a small room with five old wooden desks, four faculty and five graduate students, only to discover that what had once been the Literature Department had had a schism years ago, and was now divided into two departments, one for British literature, the other for American. Training English teachers was handled by yet another form of English department.

With tea cups in hand, we shared our stories. The atmosphere and curriculum were what one would expect from almost any American campus in the 1950’s. They told us their 100 undergraduate majors often missed classes, their curriculum was narrow where students took few courses outside of their specialization, the graduate dissertations were on Shakespeare, Marlow and Chaucer. The senior professor, a short haired and stocky fellow in his 50’s, told us he had studied in Illinois twenty years ago, loved Istanbul…”a city where you can have any kind of fun you want 24 hours a day.” The department had few adjunct or part time faculty…when they did, they usually didn’t get any state support. They had an occasional Fulbright lecturer, but that was rare.

When we talked about my learning community experiences, most of the students and faculty were surprised. “Nothing like that could happen here. Ankora (the capital) would never allow it.” Like what we’re already learning about education in Croatia, Turkey educated students in strict disciplinary silos; LC’s are a long way off!

Istanbul is a beautiful city, full of ancient but still beautiful mosques, wide avenues and bustling people 52% under the age of 30, yet one can still see its incredibly ancient roots, parts of the city wall that Constantine built in the 4th century! Unlike India, the air is brisk (cold) and the people dressed warmly in dark clothes, hats and jackets, all muted and subdued. Old women which we deemed "babushka women" (probably OUR age) sat covered in headscarves in a park dotted with Roman ruins and a shoeshine man busily brushing shoes worn by businessmen in three piece Western suits and ties. Everywhere in the city were small cemeteries with tall stones decorated with calligraphy and arabesques. Stray cats and many stray dogs went about their business all looking as if they knew where they were going and maybe were a bit late for appointments. This is the first country, however, while having many, many strays, where the strays looked pretty healthy.

Each day and evening men fished from the Galatea Bridge and night markets sold everything along the ferry piers, from underwear to leather jackets to fresh fish sandwiches and beer. Hawkers tried to entice customers into seaside restaurants and a strip of water pipe bars pulled in many of the students. However, absolute NO hookahs would be permitted on board the ship warned our Dean's Memo and the ship loudspeaker announcements! Darn--and I wanted to bring everybody a pipe. So don't be too disappointed when you don't get one!!

We had such a nice time we'd like to return to Turkey combined with a trip to Greece. I, Dianne, would like to go to Ephesus and the site of Troy--and other archeological sites. Tom likes the idea of more city and city life.

Tut Speaks: Cairo, Luxor, Alexandria

Egypt was another breath-taking journey, mostly into the past this time, as we roamed through old cities, temples, graves, valleys, ancient bazaars, and aging kingdoms, dodging the vendors who have developed their tackling skills to the max. Still, we loved (the ancient if not the present) Egypt, even the three night, four day trip we took through Cairo and to Luxor, with very early morning wake up calls and trips to the Giza Pyramids.

I (Tom)write this after our magnificent visit to Istanbul, Turkey, with an evening arrival to Dubrovnik tonight. I look back on our days in Egypt and realize it was a hard country for me to like, though much of the country is stunningly beautiful and deeply historic, especially if you like deserts, pharaohs and sand. Images from one of Mafouz’s novels wander in and out of my brain, especially this line from the novel I’m now finishing, The Beginning and the End, the story of one poor family from the Cairo neighborhood surrounding the Khan, where Dianne and I often wandered: “How curious that Egypt unmercifully devours its own offspring! Yet they say we are a contented people. Oh God, this is the height of human misery! Nay, it is the height of human misery to be miserable and contented.” While the Nobelist Moufouz wrote this at the end of the 1940s, I wonder if some of it is still true today. The people, friendly and poor. The vendors saying "no hassle" while they bodily pull you into their shops--"Just look, it's free to look" or the more humorous "how can I take your money today?!"


Cairo is a badly polluted and heavily militaristic city in a country of more than 80 million people. It is said that there are 500, 000 police in Cairo alone, though trips to the Pyramids, located in Giza outside of Cairo, help to forget that fact. The Great Pyramid of Cheops, constructed on 2.5 million stone blocks and rising 450 feet from the sand, is stunning, to say the least, and Dianne even got a camel ride in the bargain. Tom and I are now writing this together and I have to say that despite it being a tourist kitsch--I loved my camel ride--just a bit bumpier and much higher than riding a horse. But those of you who read Amelia Peabody mysteries would be right at home here. The animals in Egypt all looked overworked, underfed and undermedicated. And so, Ameilia tending to the donkies and camels in the novels is very realistic--it still needs to be done--and what I never realized before is that she uses REAL historical figures in her mysteries, such as Howard Carter and Maspero. It's pretty sad when the only way I knew bits of Egyptian lore (aside from museum instruction) was from these campy novels! Tom also watched a dramatic though wee bit kitchy light show on the Giza Pyramids.

We spent two nights at a very nice hotel in Cairo before a flight to Luxor, originally called Thebes, which from 2100 to 750 BCE was the seat of power and glory for its temples, especially the one at Karnac. The Valley of the Kings there revealed Tut’s grave to us, and those of several other pharaohs, and we saw a display of Tut’s treasures in the Luxor Museum that is everything its reputation suggests. The temple at Luxor though small was awesome and very romantic as we saw it at night. It is dramatically lit each night and we also saw it by full moon. The temple(s) at Karnac rivaled the Acropolis for me (D), It was gigantic and it had enormous columns crowned with lotus and papyrus capitals and original paintings left on some of the lintels.

And while Tom enjoyed the Cairo Museum, I was blown away by the very small sections we got to see--especially the King Tut room. Although many items are on tour in the US and Europe, there were still enormous numbers of items that showed the wealth and power of this very young, very minor King. We also saw his tomb with one mummy case and his mummy's resting place and pictures of Howard Carter discovering the tomb with all of these pieces piled on one another in a tinier room in the tomb--but oh, the jewelry, the gilded and carved palequins, the carved tiger beds and royal crowns and the jewel encrusted canopic jars, the alabaster perfume flasks, the ivory carved lion unguent containers,the gold death mask and his gilded throne! My favorite piece, though, was a small wooden bust, carved and painted of Tut when he was younger. Now if only we could transport the WHOLE collection to a special exhibit for our museum. Then we'd really have an unrivaled Ancient Art tour!

Other images of Cairo that I (Tom) won’t soon forget: Thousands of unfinished houses with roofs cluttered with construction material and rebar, due to the fact that several years ago taxes were raised at the height of a construction boom and "unfinished" buildings don't have to pay as much so they are purposefully left unfinished. Mubarek has been President for 25 years and the Islamic Muslim Brotherhood is predicted to take over congress in the next election, something that one of our most esteemed faculty Prof. Don Heinz thinks might be a very good thing (while many fear the Brotherhood, and an Islamic state…one of the possible downsides is that it would bring a very strict rule against kissing in the street); Egypt is the only Arab country to have made peace with Israel; in Epypt you cannot take a picture without the subject demanding money, unless the subject is a camel; we spent more than an hour trying to wrest ourselves from the clutches of a perfume shop owner, whose brother had given us directions to the large Khan Khalili Bazaar. After giving directions, the brother took us forcibly by the arm and walked us 4 blocks to the perfume shop, where we were sat down, showed pictures of fighter Mohammad Ali drinking tea with the shop owner, followed by being served tea and a hard sell for perfume. We resisted and left abruptly 30 minutes later.

But that was in Cairo--and out in the country near Luxor and Thebes the living was at least "prettier" or more picturesque for tourists. (I doubt if the poor merchants and farm laborers or country people) had it better--probably much worse but we were sheltered in a hotel in Luxor that was more like a resort with its own shopping and restaurants and bars and pool and boat rides. Our room had a balcony covered in bouginvilla and facing the Nile. It was lovely and so we only saw mostly the way very rich Egyptians lived here. (I'm not complaining, mind you, but we were certainly more tourists than "travellers" at these sites. We did, however, come away from the country with sand in our shoes and grit in our teeth. We did like ancient Egypt, but I'm not sure we will return.

How Can I Write about India?

How can I, Dianne, write about India? Our “Tips for Travelers” called India “a land of contrasts.” Our professor from India said that we would find it a place of “great contradictions” One book proclaimed that “whatever you said about India, the reverse was also true.” And yet, none of these words prepared us. India did indeed both fascinate and repel. Tom does not want to return. I haven’t yet decided.

First are all the people—people on foot, people on bicycles, people on motorized trishaws, people jammed into buses; people in donkey carts, people in wagons pulled by giant white bulls or water buffalo, people sleeping or dying on the sidewalks or streets. All moving. And then there the are the people who also occupy spaces who are still. Deformed beggars inching legless bodies over the piles of garbage and litter and dirt and broken pieces of concrete and stone that exist next to tall buildings sparkling white and spotless and modern amenities and proclaiming their names of new hi-tech and wealthy companies. Below naked children play in the mud with several mange-ridden dogs as a (sacred) cow ambles across the road, stopping traffic, until it reaches their side and searches through the garbage for something to eat. Next door, a shack is filled with men sitting on plastic stools eating soup or rice and the flies buzz around and cover small plates set out on the rickety tables. And the noise—too many people loudly trying to hustle gum and fruit and taxi rides and tea and plastic bags and small cheap painted Hindu gods. The cranes and big machinery continue to roar and the horns of all the vehicles honk and bong and blow in deafening sound. And the smell…India in most places smells—and is—an open sewer. Men and children openly urinate and defecate and pigs and cows and dogs run free to do the same. And the air, at least in Chennai and Delhi, burns the eyes.

And yet, there are places of extreme beauty as well. The red sandstone abandoned cities that stand on hills and have done so for over a thousand years, like Fatehpur which stands empty now but which once was larger and more populated and civilized than London of the same time.. The marble peacock arches of the Agra Fort, the fort that has never been attacked, the fort that has courtyard after beautiful courtyard with small and large fountains and a marble pool with carved seats so the concubines could coolly amuse themselves, the quarters all decorated with patterned designs, painted, and carved and inlaid sunflowers and geometric designs. And dawn on the Ganges with a huge red sun rising over the water while hundreds bathe on the shores by the temples and burn their dead in huge bonfires and set prayer candles and thousands of flower wreathes to float on the holy water. And the chanting that carries over the sounds of the hucksters that follow the tourists even onto the river.
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And the Taj Mahal… the memorial of an ancient love story, built by Shah Jahun for his beloved dead wife to fulfill her request that world would always remember her. It is a “wonder of the world” perhaps “the most architecturally perfect” building ever to be completed. The Taj floats creamy white in the late afternoon sky, its massive size disguised by its delicate carving and perfect symmetry, four minarets at each corner slant imperceptibly in case an earthquake should hit—and they will fall away from the building itself. The Taj…like a white fairy-tale castle out of some exotic myth. Looking at it from the beginning of its long stone walkway and reflecting pool, it could almost be an illusion, a miniature, embroidered and carved and inlaid and glowing perfection.

And the people of India, poor and rich, handsome and glowing, the women in beautiful colors refusing to adopt the pallid hues of tan and beiges or the grays and blacks of, the Western world. At the Taj alone women strolled dressed in colorful saris: turquoise and pink; neon green and orange: royal navy and maroon edged in gold; mustard yellow decorated with gold flowers; lavender and peach; saffron over maroon with maroon flowers;; deep teal over saffron yellow: apple green with smudges of sky blue: then three women walking abreast—one in peach, one in deeper orange, one in deep, deep rust; then three more—one all in lemon , one in peach, one in black raspberry—all luscious colors.

Enjoy Tom’s photos—but as wonderful as they are, they can’t begin to capture either the nightmare or the beauty of India.
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Burmese Days...in Myanmar

We’re headed south, away from Yangon, Myranmar, down a long channel, before we turn west toward India. The sunset just a few minutes ago was spectacular, even though Dianne is sleeping and I’m staying in our cabin, not venturing out to the seventh floor forward deck where most of us station ourselves with cameras for port comings and goings. Our five days in Burma (the name of the country before the military dictatorship changed it to Myanmar in 1964) were punishing in many ways, not the least of which was the heat and high humidity. More stressful were constant sights of poverty in a country that is suffering from nearly world-wide economic and political sanctions. But the people forge on, usually staring us down as 700 of us descended on their country, for many of them had never seen a Westerner.

A love hate relationship is how Dianne sees it, loving the people, hating the government and the repression forced on the people. That makes daily interactions with the people, of which we had many, like walking on egg shells, careful to ask good questions, but not to push the people into dangerous territory. The story, told again and again in such modern profiles of Burma as Karaoke Fascism and Finding George Orwell in Burma, not to mention Orwell’s earlier Burmese Days, reminds us that engaging the people in a discussion of Suu Kyi, Nobel Laureate and currently under house arrest in her home on University Avenue, could get them killed. We’re constantly reminded that in 1989, when elections overwhelmingly demanded that the military withdraw from government, they refused.

Our five days were filled. Compared to Vietnam, Burma is three or more decades behind in development. Most of the infrastructure, streets, houses, hospitals, schools, even monasteries, is under terrible disrepair. The compulsory Buddhist education for all young in the country further isolates the people and makes them vulnerable to the whims of the government, which likely makes decisions based as much on astrology as on a will to power.

Our schedule was: day one, city tour. This included an introduction to the history and culture of this 5 million person city (with almost 60 million in the country), by an excellent guide. We stopped at the Colonial Building, Sule Pagoda, a local tea shop, the National Museum, the Bogyoke Aung San Market, the Chauk Htat Gyi Reclining Buddha, and finally, the spectacular Shwedagon Pagoda, towering 326 feet above Yangon. Day two, we spend with 1000 Buddhist novices, an amazing encounter between fifteen of us from the ship and a selection of young girls and boys in robes. Dianne and I sat on the floor of a large room, each with about 20 novices, engaging them in song, conversation and laughter for almost three hours. My group is one of the pictures I’ve included. Then we had a tug of war, mostly tugged by the children, then a cane ball toss, snacks and then sad goodbyes.

Day three, we traveled 35 minutes from our port to Thanlyin Village to sample “local life.” Originally a Portugese outpost for adventurer Philip De Brito, this town of 40000 has a local market and very friendly people. We talked to as many people as we could through the able services of our guide, who learned his excellent English from a mission school. He is a Chin, one of the seven ethnic minorities, who lead much of the opposition to the current government.

Day four was a free day. We took an early shuttle from the ship to town and walked all day. We met a wonderful couple who own a shop in the large city market; Dianne bought some native tapestries from them. On the final day, today, we took a five hour tour of handicraft factories, including Naga Glass Hand Blowing Factory, the Green Elephant Rattan Factory, a tea shop stop, and a woodworking block where the artisans were making elephants and buddhas. Burma is a country, really like all the others, that we fell in love with.