Dave the Nomad

Sam and I arrived in Bangalore by train, on what continues to be a pleasant experience talking with the locals sitting next to us. Today is Valentine’s Day, and Sam and I spent the day doing some last minute shopping and posting of pictures online. I was reading the local newspaper which conveyed a different spirit to this holiday.

There is a lot of elder and conservative opposition to the outward expression of love and “western ways.” The best example is from the state of Haryana, where our EWB work was done. The government was offering instant marriages to couples wanting to marry out of consent from the families and panchayat social caste structure, and also guaranteeing their safety with 24-7 security. The security is because family members are ashamed of such actions and a member of one or both families will usually kill the lovers.

The holiday has also been a banner for women’s rights in general. We passed a man holding a sign in the middle of the road that said, “I support my mother, my wife, my daughters, and all women.” He gave us a nod of recognition as we passed. We also happened to see a few commercials on the TV. One of them basically said, “If you’re wife wants to learn to drive, don’t stop her.” The other ones were focused on domestic abuse and giving people examples of how to confront a neighbor, including a gang of boys playing cricket, and a single guy knocking on the door and asking for some help with something and then proceeding to walk away. Its a new take on a greeting card holiday and refreshing to see societal progress blossom out of it.

This was certainly a different side to India, and seemed to be a bit of hope far from the dark gloom of the Ganges in the north. Early tomorrow, Sam and I are headed to Kathmandu to meet up with his dad and brother to trek in the Everest region of the Himalayas. I’ll be out of touch for a while, but hope to hear from everyone at some point.

Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone

Dear Friends and Family,

Thank you for your service abroad and at home. Except for the past few years when I have actually had friends serving in the Armed Forces, Veteran’s Day (as we Americans like to call it) has been a lesser known holiday on my personal calendar.

Today, has been the most memorable Remembrance Day I’ve ever had.

I took a fast train back up to Amiens, France in order to get some work done, and found myself on a day trip with Geoff to the Beaches of Dieppe and the V2 bunker of St. Omer. There is only so much you can comprehend of past battles until you see the places first hand. Looking at pictures in history books, and reading excerpts means nothing until you see the ridges they fought for, walk on the land that so many lost their lives over, and breathe the air passing over.

Dieppe was the site of the first attempted beach landing by the Allied Forces in Occupied France during WWII. The cost in lives was heavy, and borne primarily by 5,000 Canadian Forces. However, it is also the first time American forces saw ground action against the Germans in WWII. The lessons learned from this bloodbath raid gone awry helped prepare the Allied forces for the D-Day landing nearly two years later.

Today we arrived after a beautiful sun speckled drive across Northern France’s dotted green fields and a venerable wind to the coastal plain. As we approached the coast, rain spattered on the windshield and dark grey clouds whisked by leaving no time to contemplate their shape or stature. The beach of Puys was wet with the mist from turbulent waves breaking at high tide on the walls below. The rocky beach provided a violent and raucous reprisal for silent thoughts as visions of men storming the beach with its high white cliffs and opaque water rushed through my head. Farther down the beach is the down of Dieppe, originally founded by William the Conqueror. Still holding onto its fishing village roots, the town was wet and true to its being with a port surrounded by townhouses and the faint smell of fish. Unlike fair weather ports farther south harboring yachts and elegant ships, this was a city clinging to a violent past, proud and maintained without the necessities or demands of tourism. Here at daybreak Aug 19, 1942, on the town beach, thousands of men (5/6 of which were Canadian) were mowed down by machine gun fire and met by uncleared beaches and prepared Germans.

Today, the town was nearly empty. Artificial poppy wreaths dotted small memorials around the city and beachhead, damp and leaf covered since the weekend onslaught of veterans. Although it is not as memorable to most of the world, this beach was instrumental in victorious landings made years later at Normandy’s D-day beaches, and should not be washed out of memory.

Our second stop for the day was the German V2 launch bunker in St. Omer. This site has the feel of Dr. No’s evil headquarters but over grown like Mayan Pyramids lost in the New World. The immensity of this structure is unbelievable, and the imagery inside almost overwhelming. The site never launched a V2 rocket (a key stepping stone in the development of NASA) at nearby England . The site is now a museum showcasing not only the history of rockets, but also the local history of Northern France in WWI and WWII. As I look through these pictures of utter destruction, I try to fathom a daily loss of 73,000 people in present day terms. This may take a couple seconds to those reading about this, or to those, like me, grateful enough to not see such atrocities in person. I can only imagine what the men in WWI experienced in the trenches they called home, and the emotions that overcame them.

I have not mentioned much about my fraternity yet in my postings, but I think this is a most apt time to do so. I would like to leave you with a poem written by one of my fraternity brothers of past who was a field physician during WWI. It is a poem we all remember, and I ask that you take a moment on this day to contemplate as well:

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

— Lt.-Col. Dr. John McCrae
Canadian 1st Field Artillery Brigade
Zeta Psi, Theta Xi Chapter 1894

Waking up at home, after a near restless night of short sleep, to a slight drizzle and slight breeze, my hopes for a nice sunny departure were dashed . . . but those hopes were trivial in comparison to what is soon to become a great adventure. After the final hours of packing, re-packing, checking paperwork, and finishing work, I’m finally leaving. Finally! After so much anticipation and anxiety I am starting the first leg of my journey. I know it shows my departure as Sunday from New York, but I realized this journey starts the moment I leave home with my pack over my shoulder. I left home in classic American style, road-tripping to New York City. With the help of my parents, and friends in Cleveland I covered 735 miles from Ekhart, IN to New York City with a farewell to my family in Cleveland. I’ve become so accustomed to the trip between home and Cleveland that the fields of corn and soybeans . . . and corn and soybeans provoke thoughts instead of providing scenery. I recollected on the advice I’ve been given not just in the past couple of weeks, but throughout my life. I find a couple things that stand out:

1) “Be prepared” There is no way I can bring every item I need with me, but the preparedness is something I carry from personal experience and the ability to use what I have at hand in the moment

2) “Everyday is a great day” It may not be a great day for me everyday, but every single day is great, you can’t get too downtrodden, and must think of better thoughts.

3) “Remember to Smile” It seems to be a good indication of you having fun, and at the very least helpful in easing tense situations.

For those who were wondering, my pack weighs 39 lbs without food or water. I’m hoping that will be light enough to keep up with me!

I want to thank all of you for your support over the past months, and hope you stay in touch!

Cheers!
My family!

Just a quick post to let you know all of my Dad’s pictures are uploaded. You can find the link for these photos on the sidebar. As I look at some of these pictures, I am drawn to those of Afghanistan. This is during the end of the reign of King Mohammad Zahir Shah or just after a military-coup, and in the minds of many Afghanis, the end of a prosperous and peaceful nation. As much as I wish to travel through this region, I must keep my safety in mind and will not be traveling through most of the Middle East….alas maybe someday it will be safe again. Enjoy the pictures!

It’s been quite a while since my last update for two reasons: finishing grad school classes and moving. I could write about how selling everything is liberating and refreshing, and how everything I own I can fit in my backpack, but its just not true. I have sold or donated most of my belongings, but I still have a furnished bedroom and some things stored at a friend’s place. I consider it my small tether to Cleveland while I’m away, but I don’t think it will influence my trip knowing I have a 10′ x 10′ area filled with my stuff. Secondly, I abhor moving. Yes, its a great time to cleanse your life of the past, eat that non-perishable food you stared at for the past year, and take bets on what might be hiding under the couch . . . but in the end, everything must be moved out whether it be to the dumpster, goodwill, or storage. I am happy to be done moving.

In addition to finishing my thesis, I have started a part-time engineering job at Nottingham-Spirk Design Associates in Cleveland, OH. You may have heard of some of their finished projects, like the Crest Spinbrush and Swiffer. Its a fun and refreshing atmosphere, and I look forward to the next couple of months working there. I’ll be saving as much as possible as the trip approaches now that I have an income source again. Also, since I have a bit more free time, I’ll be giving the website a facelift and cleansing.

Yesterday just became the best day of 2008. It was the return of my Persephone.

The Greek story of Persephone is well known, but a quick recap: Hades abducted and married Persephone. During that time her mother Demeter, goddess of the Earth, mourned and all green things died. The gods intervened, and ordered Hades to release Persephone. Because the unwilling bride was tricked into eating four pomegranate seeds in the Underworld, she had to return for the same number of months out of the year. With Persephone’s return from the world of the dead each year came the onset of spring and the turn of seasons as Demeter rejoiced and allowed the Earth to spring forth new life.

Yesterday was my first water-ski trip of the season. My near uncontrollable urge to water-ski was only consoled by the sight of my water-ski and life jacket patiently waiting in the corner of my dining room. Dormant and mourning daily since last October, they finally reclaimed their rightful place behind a boat on the water. To the Greeks, the start of spring marked Persephone’s return, but to me it is the return of water-ski season. My dear friend Dave, whose boat I was so fortunate to ski behind, aptly calls this day “Boat Day.” Call it what you please, the return of the delighted smile and pure bliss of water enthusiasts well north of the Mason-Dixon Line says the most important message of all. We’re back!

Away from the water, Cleveland was sporting a down-right joyous temperature of 75 F yesterday. With an impulsive change of plans and a few hours of preparation for the boat launch we were cutting through the chop of Lake Erie to a suitable ski location. It was the first time I have glissaded next to migratory birds skittish from the unusual sounds of a power boat screaming across the shallowest of the Great Lakes. After a short ride out to Chagrin Point, we found calmer waters and a few curious spectators on shore.

48 F doesn’t sound warm to many people, but after mentally preparing to jump into 36-40 F water for the last two weeks, it was a welcome blessing. One of the disadvantages of skiing on Lake Erie is the lack of a pier from which to execute a graceful (and warm) take-off to start the skiing. The jump into the water was about the only part of the trip that did not see a smile on my face, and was immediately followed by one of the fastest starts I’d ever done. The feelings of both the open wind on my face and ski vest hugging me like an old friend were comforting, but unnecessary to know I was back on the playground of fast moving water. The wind started to pick up, and the waves were soon approaching a foot high. I couldn’t help but kick the wake behind me and starting cutting back and forth. After a few minutes and a decreasing fortune cutting through the waves, I was tumbling head over heels to a great finish. After many thanks to Dave for the boat to ski behind and a equal passion for water-skiing, I jumped back to solid land to carry on with the rest of the day unable to hide a beaming smile while waiting for my next chance.

This post may not be related to my trip, but skiing is part of who I am, and this trip is part of who I will become. What it is the use of a good story without a good introduction?

1973: With one plane ticket to Belgium and a backpack filled with the bare necessities, my father left with a couple friends to travel around Europe. After seeing most of Europe, my dad traveled east however possible until reaching Kathmandu, Nepal. His plan to continue his travels to the Nile by jeep were thwarted by the onset of the Yon Kippur War and he flew back to Belgium. There was no set plan for each day, or train to rush back to after a day of sight-seeing, and who you traveled with changed by the next destination.

2008: As I am getting ready to graduate, I am starting to plan my own trip. My plan is simple, follow the footsteps of my father: Belgium to Nepal. Beyond his general path, I am planning to make some extensions if possible which include Spain, Sweden, Southeast Asia, and finally Japan. I don’t want to take the luxurious route, I want to travel on trodden paths and everyday roads; I want to talk, eat, and drink with as many people from as many cultures as possible.

While I am traveling I plan to make a documentary of not only my trip but of a father-son journey 35 years apart. I want to see what is different, document how and why people and places have changed, and examine the culture of global travelers and how they have and are impacting the global community. I know lots of people travel like this, and I would love to hear about any advice you have on getting sponsors or donations, or just great ways to make traveling affordable.

Cheers!