Memory

As I sit here on the last night of my voyage, I begin to reminisce about the past few months. As you can imagine, it's a blur. I'm not quite sure how to begin thinking about what has happened in the past 105 days. I keep seeing snapshots in my brain of many of the things I've seen and experienced as I've circumnavigated the globe. The blue waters of from the plane to the Bahamas. Hiking too far in the rainforest in Dominica. The view from the top balcony of the Teatro Amazonas. The feeling of hot fufu between my fingers. Sitting in a garage in Gugulethu. Sweating in a small kitchen in a market in Port Louis. Walking barefoot on the grounds of the Taj Mahal. Illegally jaywalking in Singapore. The smell of pho bubbling. Getting gypped on Shanghai's Cheap Street. Standing in the pouring rain amidst the lights in the electronics district of Tokyo. Laughing while I bought soaps in Hilo. And sitting here right now.

There was so much more in between that connects all of it together. Some that I remember. Some that I don't.

As I think about these experiences, some of which seem so long ago, I begin to grapple with the concept of memory. What is it exactly? I should know this because I've taken some classes on brain and cognitive sciences, but I couldn't really tell you. Is it just a bunch of pictures in our heads? Are there Post-It Notes that remind us of the tactile experiences? Does our brain highlight the sensory details in bright neon yellow? Why do I remember the topic of my second grade science fair project and not what I ate for dinner tonight? Who knows?

It's been a little difficult trying to pick out a few things that have stood out to me while on Semester at Sea. And it's supposed to be hard. What I've concluded is that memory doesn't work like an appendix at the end of a book that can be be used for reference. You can't just Ctrl+F the good stuff (or Command-F for us Mac users). It's more alive and sporadic than that. There's no controlling your memory. The weirdest thing will spark something in your head. So if I struggle to recall what I did "that time in 'Nam," or any other time, I apologize if I can't produce a good story for you. That's just not how memory works. For right now, this is just a huge blur that I'm still trying to comprehend, and it will take time for it to sharpen. In the meantime, I'll just keep experiencing things and hope my brain will remember them.