The Art of Noticing: Lessons from Four Months at Sea

When I first learned I would be living on a boat for four months, I felt a whirlwind of emotions. There was the excitement of a new chapter filled with places I had never seen before, the nerves of boarding a ship with 500+ strangers, the stress of preparing for visas, packing, and logistics, the sadness of leaving friends and family behind, and the deep gratitude of knowing I had the chance to experience something so rare: a semester of global immersion.

The reality was far more transformative than I could have imagined. Yes, I expected to learn, it was school at sea, after all, but the lessons extended far beyond the classroom walls.

I assumed most of my learning would come from exploring each destination: Amsterdam, Portugal, Morocco, Spain, Croatia, Greece, Cyprus, Jordan, Kenya, India, and the United Arab Emirates. Thanks to Global Studies and pre-port sessions (and shout-out to the infamous green sheet), I learned some basics before setting foot on land. But it was through adventuring with friends that I discovered the cultures, foods, people, and histories in ways no textbook could capture.

I also picked up practical skills: budgeting for trips, planning logistics, navigating new friendships, maintaining old ones from a distance, and—thanks to a strict 7 minutes of daily Wi-Fi—how to be fully present. (And yes, I finally learned the difference between a ship and a boat.)

But the most unexpected lesson I carried home wasn’t tied to geography or culture. It was something right in front of me all along: the art of noticing.

Noticing the details: the feel of new fabrics, the scent of a friend’s perfume, the taste of a cuisine I’d never tried, the sight of sunlight glimmering on water. On the ship, without constant internet, we often reminded each other: “Plug in, plug out.” Plug into the conversations and experiences around you. Plug out of distractions.

This mantra still shapes me today. On a recent run along the Chicago lakefront, I found myself marveling: “Wow, those trees are so vibrantly green. The water is shockingly blue. That runner’s shirt is the brightest neon orange.” The same route I’d run countless times before suddenly looked alive with color. Why hadn’t I noticed it until then?

It’s so easy to move through life on autopilot, missing the small details that make it rich. Semester at Sea taught me to step back and savor them. Now, I notice:

• the effort behind a simple “this made me think of you” text from a friend

• the warm nostalgia that comes when my mom makes her infamous truffle fries

• the quiet shift in the room when someone’s story isn’t being heard – and the chance to lean in and say, “I’m listening”

• the small gestures that reveal how deeply special my friendships are

• the unwavering support of my family, who showed up to every soccer game (home and away)

• the spark of curiosity that pushes me toward new adventures

Four months at sea taught me many things, but most of all, it taught me to notice. And noticing, I’ve realized, is what makes life extraordinary.