Eating Italian Food in Chinatown, Washington DC, April 2012

Tuesday 24th April – Hallelujah, we woke up to blue skies!!! I had really not been looking forward to another day of walking around in gale-force winds and icy drizzle, so getting up and seeing the chunks of blue between the buildings was like a godsend. I sprung out of bed (not a common occurrence for me, being more likely to crawl out of the sheets with all the enthusiasm of a sloth) and beat the teenage girls to the showers again. As my friend Cameron (and his idol Charlie Sheen) would say: “WINNING!”

Charlie (not Sheen, thank god) and I met for breakfast at 8:30, where I discovered that there were no chocolate muffins left – boo! However, I managed to get hold of a banana muffin and this was enough to keep me happy. 🙂 A man looking after the breakfast station demanded a greeting in a language other than English, and I was happy to oblige with a grandiose, “Salaam! Hola! Bonjour!” This seemed to make him happy and I was allowed to proceed with my cereal.

Signs that most high-school field-trippers were sadly ignoring,
Washington DC, April 2012

Not long afterwards, Charlie and I found ourselves on a metro headed for Arlington National Cemetery, the final resting place of many American servicemen and women. I am not particularly entranced by military institutions or by graveyards, but Arlington has always held a certain fascination for me. So many Hollywood movies have successfully evoked a distinct feeling of loss and sadness by using footage of Arlington. When I read ‘The Root Cellar’ (by Janet Lunn) at a young and impressionable age, I remember my heart breaking at the image of Will, one of the young protagonists who survives the horrors of the American Civil War, being found in Washington; in my head, he was found at Arlington, standing guard over his friend’s grave. So how could I not visit and pay my respects to all the many generations of soldiers who had been lost?

We wandered up the memorial drive, a long, wide, straight road which leads in a straight line back to the heart of the city, and entered the cemetery near the visitor’s centre. We were informed that funerals would be taking place during the day, and as such some of the paths would be closed. Would you believe that there were actually some people scowling at this news? It’s a bloody cemetery people – show some respect!

A day so sunny it was almost surreal, at the Arlington National Cemetary,
Washington DC, April 2012

Our first stop was the Women’s Memorial, austere in granite, and then we cut across one of the vast green lawns, stopping to read headstones as we went. The contrast of rows and rows of small white stones against the bright green grass in front of vivid blue skies was remarkable; so many lives lost too early, now forever bright in neat little columns. I was constantly struck by the sheer sadness of it; each stone represented someone who probably died in horrific circumstances, separated from their home and family at such a high cost. There were soldiers from Korea, Vietnam, World War One and World War Two; September 11th victims from the Pentagon; Civil War soldiers; astronauts from the Columbia and Challenger disasters, and the occasional President.

Our next stop was to pay our respects to President John F Kennedy; he lay in a simple memorial at the bottom of a hill next to his wife, Jackie Onassis, with an eternal flame burning nearby. The area was surrounded with awe and respectful silence; some people looked genuinely upset. I suppose he was much loved by the American people, and the shock with which his assassination was received is still palpable. The thing that touched me the most, though, was the fact that two of their children were buried with them. One small stone next to Jackie was simply labelled ‘Daughter’ (perhaps a miscarriage or stillbirth?) with only the year listed, and next to John was another small stone that showed that they had a son who survived for 2 days. So, so sad and so, so small. John Kennedy Jr was not at the same site; I wonder where he is buried.

Hundreds of the fallen rest at the Arlington National Cemetary,
Washington DC, April 2012

From there, we climbed the largest hill on the site to Arlington House, the original homestead on the property (which used to be a plantation until it was ‘acquired’ by the Union army during the Civil War, and subsequently became the cemetery we see today). Apparently Robert E. Lee lived there once, when he married the daughter of the original owner; blimey. It was a grand home, fronted with giant columns of orange sandstone, and an unbelieveable view over the whole of what is now Washington city. I could easily imagine myself sitting on a rocking chair of an evening, enjoying the view. From this vantage point, one can even see the Pentagon, which is right next door to Arlington. The interior of the house was mostly under renovation, but I was surprised to see that it was actually quite small despite its grand exterior. The original fireplaces were still intact, and there was some sort of amateur theatre performance happening inside for the benefit of school trips, but Charlie and I continued out the back to the kitchen garden, which was sadly also closed for renovation, meaning that we couldn’t visit the Unknown Civil War Dead Memorial/Tomb. Instead, we continued on to the Old Amphitheatre, a small but sweet structure covered in green vines. I don’t know the origins of the place but I imagined it as a place built at the same time as the house, used for entertaining. I could imagine rows of Southern belles in flouncy dresses being courted by men with decadent moustaches to the sound of a band on the stage; I wonder what they might think of how the house is being used now?

Leaving the amphitheatre, we walked along ‘Crook Walk’, up and down more green hills filled with little white stones, trying not to grimace at the annoying teenagers in stupid carnival hats shouting and yelling at each other and chasing each other along the steps. Where was their chaperone? Did nobody mention that perhaps that was unsuitable attire (and behaviour) for a cemetery?!? Sigh.

We finally came across the Memorial Amphitheatre, yet another grand ellipse with stone benches inside, and stopped for a short break before visiting the astronauts I mentioned before. At this point, we heard the beating of drums and realised that the funeral we’d been told about was under way. The rhythm was quite fast; soon, a large number of soldiers in full regalia came into view. The first group bore musical instruments; the second bore rifles over their shoulders. They were followed by a team of beautiful, strong-looking white horses, and then behind them came the casket on a polished black cart with golden wheels, draped in an American flag. Following the casket were a few civilians, by the looks of things, and then a number of cars. A bunch of tourists started racing to where the cortege was passing, whipping out their cameras excitedly. I couldn’t believe my eyes.

A soldier takes part in the changing of the guard for the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers, Arlington National Cemetary,
Washington DC, April 2012

We went around the back of the Memorial Amphitheatre to the Tomb of the Unknowns, where we just happened to catch the Changing of the Guard. Such pomp, ceremony and attention to detail. Even the way they walked (slowly rolling the foot from heel to toe with a straight leg) was carefully calculated, a clearly rehearsed set of instructions and confirmations issued and received. The tomb was established in 1921, its first ‘resident’ being a victim of World War One, and as such the man who patrols (a different one every half an hour) takes 21 steps alongside the tomb, waits for 21 seconds, and then walks 21 paces back. Amazing.

Prisms in the window make for a colourful appearance at the Museum of the American Indian,
Washington DC, April 2012

By this point, we were royally exhausted. Hours of pottering in the (delightful) sunshine, walking up and down hills, had left us more than a little hungry, so we exited the cemetery and got the metro to Federal Centre SouthWest. We marched in a straight, unwavering line (even ignoring Capitol Hill to our right) to the Museum of the American Indian. Were we going there to learn about the culture? To soak up the atmosphere? No, I’m ashamed to admit, we were not. We were going there in search of food. Of course! We had heard that the Mitsitam Cafe, inside the Museum, served a range of foods based on the cuisine of different native American regions, and were keen to give it a go. We were so hungry that we ignored all the lovely, rocky, wiggly architecture and mock wetlands; we paused for a millisecond to appreciate a totem pole and a VW Beetle covered in beadwork and then for another millisecond to appreciate the coloured light refracted through prisms in the windows, and that was that – straight to the food. The cafe was on a ‘grab-a-tray’ basis; there were a number of counters representing the different regions: the Northwest Coast, MesoAmerica, the Great Plains, South America and Northern Woodlands. We gorged madly: blue corn bread, a buffalo cheeseburger, red skin potato and corn puree, and the piece de resistance – blue, red and yellow corn chips topped with pulled chicken, cheese and salsa. Nom nom nom nom nom. All of it was simple but delicious. Charlie tried a Stewart’s Orange’n’Cream drink, which tasted disturbingly like an orange split ice cream, and I stuck to my Smithsonian (!) water. We rounded it off with a pair of amazingly creamy chocolate tarts; I’m not sure how ‘authentic’ they were, but damn they tasted good! I considered a rosemary and pine nut tart but knew I would have been jealous watching Charlie eat the chocolate, so what else could I do? 🙂

Our yummy lunch at the Museum of the American Indian,
Washington DC, April 2012

Replenished and refilled, we wandered out of the museum and walked over to the Capitol building, where we took a series of photographs that are making me laugh out loud just thinking about them. Perhaps making fun of the American Capitol building while right outside it is not the best idea; I could imagine a pair of snipers with their sights trained right on us, asking for permission to blow us away for disrespecting their dome!

Tired after all the eating and walking, we got the metro back to the hostel to rest for a little bit before heading out again to meet Charlie’s brother Gavin in Chinatown, which is not far from the hostel. Gavin has a 7-month old baby at home so he’s understandably a bit short on time; we met at the Starbuck’s opposite the elaborate Chinatown archway and stopped for a chat. I tried the most amazing drink – a Caramel Apple Spice. The guy behind the counter thought I was hilarious just because I had to ask what it was – turns out it was an apple drink heated up and swirled with cinnamon and caramel. Bleeding ‘eck, it was good! Normally I’m just a water girl but I can see myself making an exception for this drink again in the future. We took a couple of stools in the front window, next to a man with a dazzling smile – as we sat down he turned it on me and couldn’t help but smile back. Funny how there are some people that you just notice.

Anyway, we enjoyed our drinks and whiled away a bit of time, pausing to watch a very fit-looking man in shorts and a fitness vest prancing about like a loon in the middle of the intersection. Turns out he does it every day; the lights are set so that pedestrian traffic can cross diagonally as well as right across, so there are no vehicles in the intersection for a short time, and he just loves to be in the middle of it for as long as he can!

Gavin eventually left us and we pottered down the main strip past the Chinatown gate, stopping at an Urban Outfitters to browse through their bizarre selection of knick-knacks and funny books. Both of us ended up buying a copy of ‘Creative Cursing: A Mix’n’Match Profanity Generator’, snickering in a throughly immature way  at our two-part random creations, which included ‘snot glob’, ‘pecker wanker’, ‘jerk farm’, ‘mother donkey’ and other delights. No accounting for taste, eh? Ha ha ha ha ha!

Me and Charlie pull a Blue Steel at the Capitol Building,
Washington DC, April 2012

We decided on some Chinese food for dinner, seeing as we were in Chinatown, but after browsing a few less-than-inspirational menus we stumbled across Vapiano, a chain that’s one of my favourite places to eat with my friends in Australia, and one that Charlie has never tried. And so that’s how we ended up eating Italian food in Chinatown. You order your food at the counter and it’s made fresh in front of you while you wait; I had my usual carbonara with prawns, and Charlie tried the Truffle Ham pasta, which was a disgustingly good mix of fried ham, blue cheese, garlic, mustard, spinach and white truffle oil. Holy awesome pasta, Batman! We sat and chatted for a while as the place filled up around us, and then toddled back to the hostel. Walking down the street, we passed a man who was dialing someone on his mobile; she must have picked up because all we heard was a very enthusiastic, “What’s up, baby doll?” from him. Charlie and I exchanged a look; I’ve never been called Baby Doll in my life and I’m not sure I would react positively if someone tried it!

We arrived back at the hostel to see yet another school group checking in; now there was a group of mixed-age Mexicans, a group of teenage girls from Alaska and the new arrivals, a mixed group of 12 and 13-year-olds from South Carolina. God help us all! We had a chat to one of the chaperones from the South Carolina group, who seemed  like a nice guy; much better, at least, than the leader of the Mexican group who is a gross old shrieking battleaxe! Last night she was barking at the entire group like a disgruntled drill sergeant, and more than a few of us older folk in the common room were, quite honestly, terrified. “SHUT UP AND LISTEN AND DO NOT ANSWER UNTIL I ASK FOR IT!” she screeched in rapid-fire English… all of us made frightened eye contact and thanked the lord that we were not under her tutelage!

And so here we are again, in the common room, considering an earlyish night. Tomorrow we leave Washington after a thoroughly successful visit, on to pastures new.

Thanks for stopping by,

Tara.

Tags: food, travel, washington dc