The Mark Twain Boyhood Home and Museum has risen from #19 to #15 today on the Pepsi Grant Contest. Please spend a minute to give them your vote today. They are in the running for the $250 Pepsi Grant. You can vote once every day from now till December 31st.
A Nigerian is also in the contest to become the official blogger for Quark Expedition to the North Pole. (It aint me.) Please take a moment to cast your vote for Lola Akinmade.
Looking through pictures I took during my famous walk through Washington DC in December 2009, I realized that I had in fact visited the National World War II Memorial. Two weeks ago, I visited the National World War I Museum in Kansas and had been wondering if indeed there was one dedicated to World War II so that I could go visit it sometime. It turns out that I have actually done so. The only thing I can say is that the experience did not come close to that of being in the Museum at Kansas City which is bigger and has more to see. This could explain why I could have seen it last year without noticing what it was.
It was night though, and I was already being pummeled by the a brutal cold to return to my hotel room on time to check in for the conference I’d gone there for. I was however egged on by a stubborn desire to complete my trek to the destination – the Lincoln Memorial where Martin Luther King had delivered his “I Have a Dream” speech many years before. Thinking about it now, I do not remember seeing the WWII Memorial on my way to the Lincoln Memorial at all (even though I remember taking this picture of a sign that pointed towards it.).
However, on my way back I remember walking through the cove of lights surrounding a fountain and pausing to admire its beauty. There were very large pillars of like shapes standing around in a big circle. The warm glow from the lights there made it look like a night gathering of hunters in an East African jungle. I thought there were fifty pillars, because on each one of them was written the name of a different state in the United States. I managed to take a few pictures of the states I recognized, and moved on. I didn’t know that where I was standing was the newly constructed National World War II Memorial. I could not have guessed it from the appearance either. Nothing from the looks of it made it even remotely suggestive of that kind of theme. It was an open space just across the road, facing the Washington Monument. It was however a charming experience.
It was my pleasure then to realize a few days ago that I’d actually (almost) already completed my tour of duty as regards the two major world wars and their memorials in the country. It only took me one year to find it out, and it comes with fond memories of my visit to the nation’s capital. Reading up the wikipedia entry on the WWII Memorial in Washington, one of the criticisms of the memorial that seemed to rhyme with my own reflection on passing through the structure was the fact that the pillars standing there were named after the states rather than fallen heroes/soldiers from the war. Of course, a closer reading of the article also suggests that there is a wall within that complex which was erected for the purpose of honouring them. It has 4,048 gold stars, each star representing 100 soldiers that died in the war.
When next I find myself in the capital, I hope to pay a second and most detailed visit. Until then, I’ll keep scouring the internet for links to more places that have relevance to the Second World War. I have already found two, one in Massachusetts near Boston, and the other in New Orleans.
The title of this post is as long as the thought processes in my head whenever I try to put the blog in a box of reference. It is a travel blog as it has always been. It is also a semi-personal blog of my own experiences, opinions, thoughts and questions. More than just a travel blogger and a language scholar, I am also an aficionado of a few personal interests: photography, food, music, books, movies, wine, languages, beauty, and quiet. Somehow, they all fit perfectly until I start wondering how they fit. I am rambling. I want to thank my readers, commenters and visitors from everywhere they come from across the world and I hope that you find a reason to smile while appreciating the great wonders of the world that we find in the little things we come across every day.
Today started very early, and promising. I had woken up very many times in the night in order to drive the current visiting scholars to the airport. They are visiting Washington DC for the first time for the Fulbright conference. I knew the feeling of anticipation that attends such an important experience. Less than a year ago, I was on the plane eastwards on the same mission across the country. Now, an older (and hopefully wiser) man, I volunteered to drive them to the airport perhaps in order to relive some of the excitement. Eventually, after waking up the umpteenth time, I realized that I’d had enough sleep. I got up and set out. It was seven in the morning. The flight of the first one of them was billed for nine thirty. We had underestimated the traffic situation in our neighbouring state.
A news camera set up at around the bridge. I found this by error while looking for where to turn around.
A few minutes later at seven thirty, we reached a detour. The interstate highway was closed and the only way to get to the airport was to take another route, which ordinarily would have got us there in twenty minutes. After about three miles, we ran into a traffic situation that brought me thousand kilometres away from the scene of the annoying stretch of ice-capped cars on the Missouri road. I was back in Lagos, on the Third Mainland Bridge. It was morning on a Monday morning and the only available space for movement was just an inch, and if we got lucky, a foot, then a stop for another three minutes. The cycle repeated itself for as long as possible until you got to work, late. It was my first experience with bad road traffic. Back to the present, it was about eight twenty.
Thirty minutes, very many exasperated sighs, plenty discomforts and pretend conversation easing topics later, we got off that stretch of road finally and headed out to the airport. The traveller needed at least thirty minutes to get to the airport before his flight. The distance from home to the airport was supposed to have been thirty-five minutes at the most. We got down at ten past nine, and rushed into the terminal. We were late, as were about four other people. The attendant staff were courteous but unyielding. “You have to be here thirty minutes before. No buts.” They scanned the machine for available flights and put my friend on one to leave at twelve thirty. He didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if he had a choice. Then we went to the tables, sat down and started talking about everything under the sun. I had my eye on the car outside just in case a cop showed up and wondered why it was left attended. He did. The car bad been there for about two hours.
There was a ticket on it already, and he was just getting into his car. “Are you the owner of this car sir?” “Yes.” “Can I see your license?” “Here sir.” “Can you read that sign over there?” Sigh. The sign read Vehicles should not be left unattended. For the first time, I also heard the announcement on the PA that said in two minutes intervals: Cars left unattended will be ticketed and towed. “I was already getting ready to get it towed” the officer said. I looked at the ticket and hoped that the soft unassuming look on my face would earn me a slap on the wrist and a pardon, being a first time offence. Nope. He was already leaving. “You have to pay that before thirty days or you’d lose your license,” he said, and moved to the next car. Now I had a dilemma, get out of the car back into the terminal to say bye to my friend, or to go home. I waited it out for ten minutes, hoping at least that said friend would come out towards me. He didn’t notice, probably, so he didn’t. The cop did however, with a mean look on his face. I moved, and headed home.
Not yet over, I got back on the road and found myself back eventually at the interstate closure. It was time for another long roundabout rerouting through a series bad roads and empty countrysides and through Alton in order to get into campus on time for the first time today. It was almost one o clock. What a day.
Update: I have now found out the cause of the closure. A petrol tanker had run into a stationary car on the bridge, killed a man and set parts of the bridge on fire. That was why by the time I returned home, a few people who had heard about the news on the radio had been frantically looking for me, praying that I was not the victim. Now I have to worry about paying the darn ticket! On the bright side, look at how many pictures I took, even in my state of distress.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about my visit to the Mark Twain Boyhood home and Museum in Hannibal, Missouri. What I didn’t say was what I didn’t know then: that the facility is underfunded and is in need of serious renovation to bring it to standard. The management of the museum have for a while been raising money through very many ingenious means (one of which was promising to get the names of donors on the famous white-washed fence in front of the home. I did that, by the way. If you ever find yourself there, try to look for my name and the name of this blog on the white fence). Yet it seemed that it won’t get the job done as fast as needed.
Enter Pepsi.
Since the beginning of this year (or God knows since when far back), Pepsi has been giving money to great ideas worthy of monetary support. All they ask for is that the idea be good, and that people vote for it. They have been funding ideas every month to the tune of $1.3 million: (2 Grants at the $250,000 level; 10 Grants at the $50,000 level; 10 Grants at the $25,000 level; and 10 Grants at the $5,000 level.) The Mark Twain Boyhood Home and Museum is one of this month’s contestants for the $250,000 level which would be given only to two great ideas. Their standing as I write this post is #19. Voting ends on December 31st. That is 25 days away.
Now this is what I hope you’d do for me, as very loyal blog readers. Go to this page, and vote. It will take only two minutes for you to register and vote. And voting is free – of course. All I ask for is your time. And in return, I promise to drive back there at some point next year to write about what new things are taking place at the Mark Twain Museum. I also promise to visit downtown Hannibal rather than just the museum, and send beautiful KTravula postcards to some random blog readers, signed of course by the blogger. When you finish voting, please tell your friends to do the same. There’s nothing worse than getting so close to the mark and then falling off to the ground. I believe that the $250,000 will go a long way to save the museum (and perhaps reduce entrance tickets for future visitors too.)
Please vote as many times as you can from now till December 31st. Thank you very much. Alright now, off you go, please. Thank you.
Mark Twain, born Samuel Clemens, is the author of many books including The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, all inspired by his life in the Hannibal countryside village by the Mississippi river.