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this is gonna be my house someday!

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Question: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement or risk you have taken and its impact on you.

Two years ago, during the summer, I got a new perspective into life I had never had before. For 20 days, I did what I had always wanted to do, whether I knew it or not. I went to sea. Sea Education Association is a special high school program designed for future oceanographers. We spent 10 days on land and 10 days on board one of the two training vessels owned by the educational institution. The time on land was extremely difficult, and I learned more in one week there than in an entire semester of traditionally taught science at home, but as much as I learned at the institution itself, I learned more on board the Corwith Cramer. I've never had such a wonderful time since. The only experience that comes close to matching it, was my trip to Greece and Italy last spring.

The first thing I did on board the ship was to coil the main halyard. I coiled the rope the best that I could, and secured it to the peg. I was so embarrassed when the first science mate came along and said, "beautiful, but unfortunately, it's coiled counterclockwise.” I had to do the whole thing again. The main halyard is one of the longest ropes on the ship.

Next we were told to learn the name and function of every rope on the ship. I still remember the phrase; "Up you're aft." Which means, that in general, the higher up a sail is the further towards the back of the ship the sheets are. There were 9 sails total on our schooner, the rafee, the front staysail, the main staysail, the main sail the jib, the jib topsail, the fisherman, the course and the topsail.

I remember when a pod of North Atlantic white-sided dolphins surrounded us. They were so majestic. I caught a glimpse of the bright yellow spot on a dolphin’s side as it jumped. They were different from the publicized, "flipper". I think this species was more beautiful than the popular bottle-nosed dolphins. I have seen both up-close.

An interesting aspect of ships is that they are built like playgrounds, or junglegyms. Almost everything on board is sturdy enough to support a person's weight. There are a few pieces of sensitive equipment attached to the ship, but everything else is free game. Nobody said we had to climb it, but there it was. I just had to climb it. The mast was there and it presented a challenge. At first, I put my safety harness on, and boldly set-off up the rigging determined to reach the top. I got up about 9 ratlines (rungs) and my fear held me back. I decided to try again later. It went on like this, each time I went a little bit higher than the last. I didn't actually get to the top until the second to last day of the cruise. But I did get there, and when I did, there was a poem written on the very top. I was so terrified that I didn't get much of the poem. It said something about expanding your horizons.

The special thing about our particular cruise was that there was no moon. It was that time of month, when the moon was not out at all. This meant, that we could see the stars with an unaccustomed brilliance. There were no nearby cities to fade or tall horizons to block our view and the stars were beautiful. Not only did we see stars, but bioluminescence as well. The small creatures in the sea, when disturbed at night let off a glow similar to a firefly. When we let out the meter tow at 12:00 Am each night, you could watch the glow as the creatures streaked into the net. I helped pull the net on board (we got 50 pounds of zooplankton that night) the dinoflagellants on the net made my hands glow as if the contents of an Independence day glow tube had spilled on my hands. I couldn't help but keep rubbing the material of the net on my hands to watch the death throws in light of the tiny creatures. Without even realizing it, I got addicted to being on the sea.

When I got home, it took me weeks to recover from coming back to land. After being at sea with my friends for 24 hours a day, the land seemed so drab and cheerless. I longed for the challenge and adventure of the ocean again. Although I never formed any close or lasting relationships on that mission, I gained understanding of the impersonal intimacy that all seafarers know comes from sharing the same small ecosystem. On board ship, we took care of each other, and that requires a lot of trust; something that you don’t get on land in quite the same way. Families have some aspects of life on board ship, but the members can still escape each other for awhile by retreating into a private space. The only private space on the boat is your bunk.

The thing that turned me on to Marine Biology in the first place was moving to Vermont and getting my own pond. When I lived in the suburbs of Denver, wildlife was not so readily accessible. By not being indigenous to the countryside of Vermont, I have a perspective that many of my friends do not. For a long time, my favorite thing to do was to explore the surrounding forest, and to capture and study living things. Unfortunately, I didn't let some of them go soon enough, and they died. Thus I learned to take care of animals. I currently keep 4 aquariums; some of the fish in them are several years old.

I am an expert at catching salamanders and frogs.

Now that I understand the importance and preciousness of life, I want to preserve it. That’s why I want to go into biology, not only to understand, and to expand the horizons of our understanding, but to preserve the miracle of diversity and life for future generations. I hope also to meld the worlds of science and art into a synthesis more beautiful than either discipline could accomplish on it’s own. I have explored many mediums, pottery, writing, painting, drawing, playing, discovery, biology, research, chemistry and math. I want to go to college to explore some more.

Q: "Wellesley is a small, residential college with a diverse population. Share with us an experience that illustrates what it means to you to join a multicultural community in which you are living with people from many different backgrounds."

A: Awhile back, while I was staying in at a motel in Disney World, I was fortunate to meet a
whole family of kids from Argentina.
	I decided that night to go down to the swimming pool.  I love water.  It was outside in
January (this was florida of course) and the water in the unheated pool was freezing cold, and
the water in the hot tub was boiling hot.  Both were hard to tolerate for more than 5 minutes.
While I was trying to get used to the searing heat of the hot tub, a bunch of little kids came
down.  At first I didn't notice anything strange about them.
	I tried to ignore them.  I am naturally very shy, especially with strangers.  Somehow-- I
don't remember if it was their curiosity or mine-- we started trying to talk to each other.
	I think they were speaking spanish.  I didn't understand much of what they were saying.
I learned each of their names, and told them mine by saying it and pointing at myself.  One
could speak more English than I could Spanish, so he was our spokesperson.  They asked
where I was from.  I couldn't explain.  First I said Vermont, then New England then North.  None
of them registered.  They asked "Miami?" I said no.  Definitely not.  But we kept trying.  There
was something delightfully funny about the whole thing.  They laughed at me, and I laughed
back.  I asked where they were from.  All I could understand was "Chantille" finally one of them
said "gentina" and I broke out loudly, "Oh!  You mean ARGENTINA!  Oh!"  They looked at me
funny, as if to say, "wasn't it obvious?"
	The whole trip to Florida was really fun.  But this small encounter, lasting hardly an hour
or two, stuck out for some reason.  I usually enjoy talking to kids younger than myself, as these
children were, but there was something more.  Maybe it was the unusual challenge they
presented:  I'm not used to the necessity to speak another language.  Even on my Latin class
trip to Greece and Italy, I didn't get quite the connection that I did with these kids.  Maybe it's
because the places in Greece and Italy were international, and I was estranged from the
interesting people we met along the way because I was part of a group; a group determined to
hurry along.  Many people in places that a traveler would go to, have been inured to meeting
new people, because they are used to, and may even harbor enmity to tourists.  I think that
meeting people, and understanding in depth the attitudes and characters of a particular culture
is really important.  I didn't get a chance to do that much on our break neck paced tour.
	I think I'd like to join the peace corps some time.  The work may be hard, and the risk of
disease my be threatening, but to meet the people would be interesting.  I wouldn't want to go
someplace where they hate Americans though.  I don't know if peace corps workers are always
welcomed.
	I am always open to trying something new, as long as I get the chance to decide before
hand if I want to try it.  Given the benefit of free will, I will try almost anything, even boiled
spinach.
	Meeting people in the comfort of my own culture may be interesting too.  I like to talk to
people one on one, rather than mingling in large groups.  I think it gives me more of a chance to
focus on that one person.  There is a lot to be learned from other people, and I'm not afraid to
learn what they have to say.

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© 1997 Julie_05079@excite.com