It's only been a day and I've already learned something: humans put up with anything. I've gotten little sleep over the past few days, worked hard in the heat, and almost fell over the railing feeling queasy with nausea. When I heard of Class Afloat, I imagined all of this. By seeing pictures I could tell what it would be like. However, like with any experience, no one really knows until you've lived it. You won't know until you feel the floor swaying under your feet, thinking that at sometime it's got to stop. You won't know until you wake up in the middle of the night after two hours of sleep and realize it's your turn to go out on night watch. You won't know what it's like to squeeze through corridors and doorways, kissing distance from people you just met the day before. A minute seems like an hour when you're somewhere you don't quite understand. I've already grown accustomed to it. My room is already my home. My roommates are already family. The food I eat, the sickness I feel is all part of the norm and the life I will live for the next five months, even though I've just gotten a first taste of life on the ship.

Now I truly know what its like to live in the pictures I saw. Everything seems right visually because of the pictures I had admired in Lunenburg. But I forgot about the rest of the senses. I feel the periodic exhaustion and nausea that hit you like a truck- hopefully not at the same time. The heat makes your skin sticky and the wind tangles your hair. My arms and nose begin to burn under nothing but the sails and sun. I forget what I'm doing, and it becomes automatic. I endure it all, and once I get my free time to lie down in my bed and forget the seasickness and the burning sun, I realize how it's all worth it.