The hearts of our shipboard community were captured by Vietnam. As they returned, voyagers shared the depth they were able to experience with more time spent there than originally planned. Over smoothies on the pool deck, our “ship family” excitedly told about hiking in Sapa, exploring the Mekong, and mastering the art of bargaining in the market. Yet just as the disappointment of not going to China seemed to have softened a bit, another announcement was made. The coronavirus was not going away. We gathered in the Union as the captain explained cruise ships that had spent time in Asia were being turned away by governments in other countries in an attempt to contain the virus. Captain Kostas and ISE leadership had been closely monitoring the situation and had decided to divert from both India and Malaysia. The future of our voyage, it seemed, hinged on both avoiding Asian ports and extending the time at sea after Vietnam in a sort of “quarantine,” so we could assure officials in future ports that we were free of the virus. To that end, we would sail to Seychelles, an island nation off the coast of East Africa.

Buffered as we were from the coronavirus crisis, the initial community response was not unexpected. Voyagers were confused, angry, sad. Many questioned the decision and offered their own ideas of better plans of action. The captain patiently responded, trying to help them understand the complicated matrix of factors influencing the decision, with safety the top priority and finding a way to preserve the voyage a close second. With another twelve days at sea ahead, our focus was three-fold: continuing coursework, community building and getting everyone excited about all the Seychelles had to offer.

A Semester at Sea tradition, Sea Olympics, offered a perfect opportunity to come together as a community. Assigned to various “sea” groups, students made posters, practiced chants and prepared to compete in a full day of events from volleyball and basketball to trivia, eating contests and synchronized swimming. The staculty, LLLs, companions and ship kids created our own team named “Odd-A-Sea” and came in a respectable 2^nd place overall with strong showings in the geography bee, Minute to Win it and Handkerchief Drop. Cheering and trash talking, laughing and playing, tensions began to melt, and life felt good.

That good feeling softened the blow as we made our way through the Strait of Malacca and came alongside at Port Klang, knowing we would not be able to disembark. Classes and work moved forward, as though we were at sea, while the ship’s crew spent the day refueling and loading provisions. Our tour operator, with whom we’d been collaborating for months, emailed a picture of our ship she’d taken from the shore expressing her sadness, understanding and well-wishes.

Still lingering was the injustice that kept our Chinese passport holders on the ship during our time in Vietnam. Stunningly gracious about the experience, the group asked to present to the community at an evening seminar. With humor and dignity, they told their stories and of their connections to China. Danni shared the daily blog entries of a young woman from Wuhan who documented her parents’ decline and eventual death from Covid. Simultaneously, she described our parallel lives studying and enjoying the luxuries of a cruise ship while sailing around the world. Every seat in the Union was filled, and at times you could hear a pin drop. Our own complaints suddenly seemed small, as we began to see the crisis as so much bigger than missing a few ports.

The mood on the ship shifted. Voyagers were upbeat and supportive as they began to research environmental and cultural experiences in the Seychelles. In the field office, we set our sights on reaching out to tour operators in order to create new programs and classes. It was at the same time exciting to find a small operator who was invested in building an educational partnership with us and daunting to imagine starting from scratch with so little time. From before the beginning of the voyage, the academic team worked with faculty to organize 70 field classes across 10 ports. Each diversion required that all field class experiences in that port be redeveloped in a subsequent port. Such an undertaking for diversion from one country is considered a monumental task. This was now the third. Concurrently, Chris, Ciara and the ISE field team were working to build and sell new field programs (in-country excursions not related to coursework). Our days began early and ended late, tucked away in our tiny office behind the reception desk on Deck 5. At times we wouldn’t have known if it was night or day but for the video feed from the front of the ship. Grateful to work with dear friends who put teamwork above egos or hierarchy, we tackled the challenges together, navigating a complicated web of decisions and tasks. We laughed more than we cried, though both were a daily occurrence, maximized group hugs, and indulged in our emergency snack supply. We prioritized leaving the office for at least a short time for happy hour in the Fritz, fondly dubbed Fofo (Friends of the Field Office) where Ingrid and Jun nurtured us with bubbles and potato chips.

We savored the moments when Danielle, Sue, our student workers and others would poke their heads in to check on us, often bringing gifts of chocolate or caffeine. Not long after the announcement of the diversion to the Seychelles, the laughter, tears, hugs and gratitude converged when a poster signed by dozens of our fellow voyagers offering appreciation and support was hung on our door. Such a thoughtful act was just the boost we needed to keep moving forward.

Neptune Day, a SAS tradition stemming from Maritime custom, took on special meaning as we celebrated not only crossing the equator, but our spirit and stamina along the way. Those of us who had crossed before, including the ship’s officers and crew, acknowledged the polliwog transformation, and I had the honor, along with Phill and Marvel of holding the dead fish. Mom was a trooper, immersing herself fully in the experience and becoming a full-fledged shellback!