By Crystal Romero, Institute for Shipboard Education: Semester at Sea
“I’m sorry, kiddo. It’s COVID,” Nurse Bob said, leaving me in disbelief. “But I don’t feel sick at all! I usually run a fever, and I’m supposed to lead a camel trek through the Sahara in just three days!” I pleaded, desperately trying to hold back tears. This was the last thing I wanted to hear right before one of my most anticipated field programs during this four month voyage around the world. I had been chosen as a Trip Liaison for Semester at Sea's fall 2024 voyage in Morocco, and my excitement had been through the roof. Instead, I was whisked away to an isolation room, left alone until I could be tested again. Not only was I now in quarantine, but I had also lost my chance to participate in the camel trek entirely.
The last time I visited the continent of Africa was in 2019. I was volunteering at a school and staying at a backpacker hostel in Cape Town, South Africa. One of my first days at the school, I noticed a little girl laying on the ground during recess. Walking over to her, I quickly learned that she was not feeling well and was burning up from a fever. Days later I learned that this child had the flu and would not be returning to school for several days. Consequently, I myself came down with the flu and was sick for the remainder of my time in the country. Being ill is obviously never a good time, but when it is compounded by being so far from home and having severe control issues, it is also a journey through a myriad of emotions.
After several days of solitude in quarantine, my mind had little to do but wander, and that's exactly what it did. I found myself reflecting on my reasons for embarking on this journey, allowing a wave of nostalgia to wash over me. I embraced my homesickness and pondered how the rest of the trip would unfold if I felt this way. Working for Semester at Sea had been a long deferred dream of mine and one that I wanted to gain a perfect experience from. It was hard for me to let go of that image. Then, in the midst of this low moment, something remarkable happened: my community rallied around me. I started receiving encouraging notes slipped under my door and in my mailbox. My residents and colleagues reached out with texts and calls, checking in on me, and some even snuck me extra snacks. It’s hard to wallow in self-pity when you're enveloped in such warmth and support.
As I sat in my isolation room, those small gestures started to shift my perspective. Each note reminded me that I wasn’t truly alone, even if I felt it. My mind began to wander back to my experiences in South Africa. I remembered the little girl on the ground and how helpless I felt in that moment. But just as I couldn’t change her circumstances, I also couldn’t change my current situation. What I could do was choose how I responded to it.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, I was cleared to leave isolation, but the lessons I learned stayed with me. This time, I vowed to embrace the unpredictability of travel and the inherent challenges that come with it. I realized that sometimes our plans get derailed, but it’s in those moments that we learn the most—not just about the world, but about ourselves.
One key lesson emerged from my time in quarantine: community matters. The support I received taught me the importance of connection, whether near or far. It reminded me to reach out to others in their times of need, as well.
When I finally joined the rest of the shipboard community, I did so with a renewed sense of purpose. I approached the journey with a deeper appreciation for the people around me and the unpredictability of life. Yes, plans can change in an instant, but it’s the way we navigate those changes that defines our experience.
In the end, I not only learned about the resilience of my spirit but also about the power of community. And while I had initially feared that my dreams were slipping away, they transformed into a profound journey of connection and understanding—one I would carry with me long after the sun set over the Sahara.
