The sole piece of culinary expertise passed through the generations from my grandfather was how to make proper potato pancakes. My father taught us. I will teach Oliver.

Unfortunately Catherine dismisses all potato pancakes as merely “potatoes, salt and fat,” and refuses to even consider enjoying them, which is going to interfere with the evolutionary pass-down scheme.

What’s worse, you can’t really make good potato pancakes without an electric frying pan (at least in our tradition), and having lacked an electric frying pan for at least a decade, there’s been a significant turn-down in my potato pancake consumption recently.

So today, what with it being the heart of the holiday season and the taste of Rukavina family potato pancakes of yore dancing in my head, I took Oliver up to Smitty’s to have their version thereof.

Unfortunately, like everything else on the menu at Smitty’s, they were bland, dry, and tasteless except for the salt (sometimes I think a giant tanker pulls up to the back door at Smitty’s once a year and drops off a load of generic “breakfast food glop” from which they then concoct all of their food, simply varying the amount of salt and food colouring to approximate each dish).

So rather than sizzling into my body with a rush of holiday glee, the Smitty’s pancakes hit me lit a ton of, well, breakfast food glop.

Sigh.

I may have no choice but to arrange for Catherine to go on some extended errand, and to then secretly bring a proper electric frying pan into the house, along with a sausage grinder (the other required apparatus, used to properly grind the potatoes), and cook up a bunch for Oliver and I.

Merry Christmas, Papa Dan, wherever you are.

I’m still looking for information on Hermann Kleefisch’s trip around the world. He set off from Prince Edward Island in July in a VW microbus.

Bob Likely passed along a possible email address this morning, and I’ve written to see if I can get an update.

If anyone else has any news, I’d welcome it.

Starting on November 1, 2003, a convoy of left California for a longitudinal circumnavigation by Land Rover. The trip is in support of The Parkinson’s Institute.

As I write this, they’re in Ecuador. They’ll head through South America, then around to Australia, Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Cambodia, Vietman, Laos, Myanmar, India, Sri Lanka, China, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Russia, Alaska, Canada, and then back into the continental US with a finish in July, 2004 in California.

The expedition has a Take Me With You! program where they invite “members of the media, sponsors, professional travel writers, photographers,filmmakers, and celebrities” to travel with them for one to two week periods.

My obsession with round-the-world voyages has prompted me to start a new weblog, Reinvented World. Over there I’ll be talking about all manner of circumnavigating, with pointers to books, websites and other resources. There’s an RSS feed of the posts, and RSS of the discussion as well. Enjoy.

Who Needs a Road? was my introduction to driving around the world. I first read about the book in an review by Al Podell in blue magazine. Originally published in 1967, the book was re-issued in 1999. I bought myself a copy, based on the review, and read it from cover to cover in a couple of days. I was hooked.

The book concerns an expedition, begun in 1965, in a Toyota Land Cruiser, by Harold Stephens and Al Podell and a collection of irregulars. They started from New York City, headed across the Atlantic, across Europe, the Middle East, India, and Southeast Asia, Australia, across the Pacific, and up through Panama to New York City. They covered over 40,000 miles, and took almost 3 years. But they did it.

After reading the book, I wanted to know more: the closing scene talked about film that was taken of the expedition crossing over into the USA at El Paso, Texas. “Where was the film?”, I wondered.

So I tracked down the email address of the publisher, and sent off a note. Imagine my surprise when I received a reply shortly thereafter from Harold Stephens himself, now 30 years older and living in Bangkok. We struck up an email correspondence, and, using my Internet search skills, I helped Steve (as he is called by everyone) track down long-lost friend and acquaintances, both from the round-the-world trip and from his adventures afterwards.

And I tried to help Steve find the film. This led me on a wild electronic goose chase through Hollywood, across the US, and into Hot Springs, AR, where I tracked down the son of the man who had shot the film. Frustratingly, I was never able to get in touch with him, and so the film remains out of reach to this day.

After a year or so of working with Steve at a distance, it occured to me that we were presented with the unique opportunity of visiting Thailand with someone knowledgeable “on the ground.” We were a little uneasy about the notion of travelling so far with a nine month old son, but decided to explore the idea: I sent a tentative email to Steve, asking him what he thought of the idea. As he related in this article for the Thai Airways magazine, Steve thought this was a fine idea:

I guess I never expected them to come. This often happens, people make plans and then their boss gets sick and they can’t get the time off or their grandmother ends up in the hospital. But not with Peter and Catherine, and their son Oliver. They were on their way and gave me their arrival information, and now I began to worry. Had I done the right thing? Here was a couple that had made only one trip outside of Canada, and that was to New York, a few hundred miles away. Now they were travelling half way around the world, so far away that if they travelled any farther they’d be on their way back home.

The funniest part of our voyage to Thailand is that both Steve and I realized that, although we’d made plans to rendezvous in the airport in Bangkok, we had no idea what the other looked like. As luck, or fate, would have things, we walked out of the customs line, I spotted Steve immediately, and we were on our way.

Needless to say, our trip to Thailand was phenomenal: there’s nothing like having a “man in Bangkok” to get you grounded and oriented. You can read more about our trip in a series of posts I made at the time:

• Wild Blue Yonder
• Other side of the world…
• Tuk Tuk
• Accessing the Web
• Chatuchak Weekend Market
• Crafty Thailand
• Leaving Chiang Mai
• Phitsanulok
• The Story of the Good Time Girls
• Phitsanulok to Bangkok
• Back in Canada

Our trip to Thailand infected us with the “travel bug” and we’ve been across the US, and then to Spain since, and are eager for more.

If you’re looking to jump start a life of travel, Who Needs a Road? is a good place to start.

I’ve developed a strange obsession with voyages around the world. Ever since I stumbled across Who Needs a Road? three years ago, I’ve been compelled by stories of expeditions — by car, boat, horse-drawn cart, bicycle — that set out to circumnavigate the world.

I can’t say what it is about this that entrances me so, but I could happily spend all my waking hours reading tales of tire changes in the jungles of Burma, of border crossings into Turkey, and of arranging for the transport of horses across the Pacific.

It would seem that the logical conclusion of this obsession would be to actually set out to do it myself, and that is, in fact, a secret plan that I hold in the far back reaches of my mind.

In the meantime, I’ve decided to start this very-focussed little weblog to share my passion with others, with hopes that I will reach into the community of round-the-world groupies and share resources, pointers and ideas.

So while on the main weblog you will read tales of my petty everyday life, here you will read only of loft world-circling books, resources, websites and more.

Described as “a hip, genre-stretching version of Handel’s holiday treasure like you’ve never heard it,” you can listen here to The Downtown Messiah. Stars Marshall Crenshaw, Dar Williams, Jane Siberry, David Johansen, Everett Bradley and Meg Griffin. Recommended.

I now have an office phone again! A jolly Santa Clausian Eastlink installer showed up this afternoon and, presto, I’m back. No voicemail yet (I’ve got grand plans for that), so you either catch me in, or you don’t for the next couple of days.

Here’s an RSS feed of the current moon phase, courtesy of The Old Farmer’s Almanac. We’re just testing this now, so feedback is welcome.

Here’s what I’m thankful for this holiday season.

My beautiful partner of 14 years, Catherine, who delights me every day.

My son Oliver, now 3 years old (although he claims to be 2 if you question him), for making me a more patient man, and for allowing me to see the world through his gentle eyes.

My parents, Norm and Frances, who only grow more interesting as they age. They are the headwaters of most of what’s good about my life. They have accepted Catherine as the daughter they never had, and are wonderful grandparents for Oliver.

My three brothers, Mike, Johnny and Steve, who are a constant source of inspiration, guidance, and humour.

My sister-in-law Jodi, a big part of Johnny’s life and soon to be a bigger part of ours (we can’t wait).

My in-laws, Marina and Grant. For bringing Catherine into the world, and raising her well, for welcoming me into their family and accepting me as I am, and for loving Oliver as much as anyone can.

My grandparents, Louise, Ross, Nettie and Dan, now all gone. I think of each of you often and am amazed by your lives.

Oliver’s babysitter, and our friend, Emily, for giving Oliver better care than anyone could hope for, and for boundless enthusiasm and energy.

My colleagues at Elections PEI, Norma, Lowell and Merrill, for giving me the project of a lifetime, and for being beacons of patience, propriety and candour.

Carol and my other former co-workers in the Provincial Government, who gave me eight years worth of challenging work, and their patience and friendship to boot.

My friends at Yankee in Dublin, Boston and Seattle: you keep me challenged every day with new projects, and your kindness, sarcasm, eagerness to innovate, and willingness to treat Johnny and I, hundreds of miles away and in another country, as one of the family.

Our neighbour Kelsey and our friend Carol, for both always being there when we need them.

Our neighbour and confidant Catherine for her ideas, her iconoclasm, her eccentricities, her strong cups of tea, and her devotion to the community we share. And her weird little dog. And not-too-weird sisters. And Claude.

Our friend Gary, for his eccentricities, his conversation, his gardening, and for being a good friend to Oliver.

My friend Oliver, who, despite his protests to the contrary, is the bellwether inquisitive in my life.

My new landlords, colleagues and friends at silverorange for accepting me into their coven, giving me a place to work, and constantly prodding my mind.

My old friends the Stephens — Southall, Good, Badhwar, Regoczei. I see you each far too seldom, but you are often in my thoughts.

My old, old friends Jill, Colin, and George, for forgiving past transgressions and inviting me back into your lives.

Friends Ann and David for the good food and fellowship.

All of our new friends on the Island (although “new” is a relative term, as we’re about to enter our eleventh year here): you’ve bucked all the “they’re hard, cold and insular and will never talk to you” rhetoric we heard from our Upper Canadian friends before moving here, and have welcomed us into your homes and your lives.

My fellow directors at the L.M. Montgomery Land Trust for your devotion to our project, for your ideas, and for showing me more about how the Island works than I ever thought possible.

My new friend Harold, for unapologetically living the life of a modern day adventurer, and for letting me play a tiny supporting role.

Dr. Fleming, nurses and staff for removing my gallbladder and making life liveable again. And Dr. Salamoun for his kind touch and deft hands.

The owners of the Formosa Tea House, for giving me an almost-perfect place to hang out and today, when I was in the middle of a blue funk, for giving me an unexpected Christmas gift at an unexpected time.

And to Campbell Webster, for finally remembering who I am.

I am irreligious person, not given to lofty contemplation nor existential angst. But I realize that I am blessed to be surrounded by a community of amazing, talented, inpiring and kind people. For that I am truly thankful.

The best of the holiday season to all.