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Shape-Shifters and Po’ Boys, Washington DC and Philadelphia, April 2012

26 Apr

Wednesday 25th April – Somebody’s messing with my head. I went into my dorm room at the Washington hostel yesterday afternoon to find a new roommate – a thin woman with short-cropped grey hair – sleeping in bed. Later, I bumped into one of my other room-mates who said they had seen our new room-mate too; a man, who had been asleep in bed. Both of us had been under the impression that we were in a female-only dorm so the appearance of a man was odd, and didn’t explain the ‘old woman’ I saw. Later that night, I went into the room again to find our new roomie STILL in bed, only this time it looked like a heavy-set man with pink cheeks. When I woke up in the morning, the creature was still in bed, only now it briefly pulled off its sleeping mask and looked like a pallid, emaciated, frail old man! Slightly freaked out, I left it to go back to sleep while I went to the bathroom. When I came back later, it was still in bed, only it was a normal-looking man with a hat on…! I say ‘it’ because quite frankly I don’t think it was human! Shape-shifter?!? Who sleeps that long and takes on so many guises in one day? This could be a case for Mulder and Scully! 🙂

Supernatural oddities aside (!), the day started pretty normally. I battled the teenage girls for the sinks in the washrooms before heading down to breakfast with Charlie at 9, where I issued a mandatory ‘second-language’ greeting to the man in charge of the breakfast bar. He remembered me from the day before and insisted on telling Charlie that we were old friends from way back. I suppose there was some truth in the friendship thing; yesterday he bullied some poor German boy into doing my breakfast dishes for me! The poor little tyke was horrified and agreed to do it, but I insisted on at least helping out. The man had guffawed loudly at the whole situation; I liked his sense of humour.

Anyway, we packed our bags and said our goodbyes to HI Washington DC before grabbing a taxi to the Greyhound station. It was a fair distance and cost only $10 including luggage surcharge – I keep being amazed at how cheap things can be here compared to Australia! We checked in at the counter with a woman whose accent was totally unintelligible – and this opinion coming from me, an English teacher whose job it often is to decipher indecipherable accents! While waiting for our bus, we eavesdropped on an interesting conversation coming from a group of strangers behind us; they were talking about Obama and Romney, of course, and possible election outcomes. What they were saying made total sense – the financial mess was Bush’s fault, Romney is not the Republican candidate of choice and thus has less of a chance of election, and America needs to give Obama another term if they seriously want to make it out of the financial quagmire. It was nice to hear sense coming out of the man on the street; too often in Australia all we see of the US are the rednecks on their soapboxes, full of hate and bigotry, preaching insanity. It was really quite reassuring to hear something different.

I got a little snacky (we had had to check in very early to collect our tickets), so I tootled over to a vending machine, which turned out to be filled with the most abominable garbage that could not even be loosely termed as ‘food’. In the end, I decided just to give in to the garbage, and bought a vile packet of flourescent orange cheese crackers filled with peanut butter. Yes, you read that correctly. Peanut butter. I tried one and nearly gagged, and had to make myself throw it away or I knew I’d keep eating it anyway!  Who eats that crap?!? (Apart from me, of course!) I then tried to buy water to rinse the taste out of my mouth, but an investigation of all five drink machines revealed that there was only one vending machine that sold water, and it was broken. D’oh! Not wanting to top off my evil snack with a soft drink which couldn’t quench my thirst anyway, I had just enough time to run to the bathroom and drink from the taps before we had to board the bus.

I’m not sure if Greyhound can be making much of a profit out of Washington. Every bus that we saw departing from the station was basically empty; either nobody’s going anywhere, or they’re all flying or driving themselves. Our bus had the two of us and maybe three others on it; other buses were leaving with 1 or 2 passengers, or in fact none. Perhaps they receive a government subsidy? I’m not sure, but I reckon all of those buses were running at a loss this morning.

Our journey was pleasantly uneventful; we both listened to our music and dozed on and off for the three-hour trip. We passed through thick green woodlands outside Washington, and then the bus made its only stop in Baltimore, which I found quite fascinating simply due to the fact that I had been an addict of The Wire, and passing by the docks made me think of Season Two…! Dork! After leaving Baltimore, we entered a stretch of freeway that passed through what looked like farmland; little wooden farmhouses with picturesque barns were dotted on both sides of the road, some hidden by trees. After this fairly delightful view, we were witness to an expanse of suburbs that reminded me quite strongly of Eastleigh, back in England – the stretch of brick houses along the railway line, if anybody reading this is familiar with that area…! Terraced brick houses with little white lean-tos, not in very good condition but quite liveable! There was an elderly lady sitting on her porch in a purple tracksuit, enjoying a vivid pink drink which matched a scrunchie in her hair; I wonder what her story was. I’m so often tempted just to go and talk to people and get inside their world for a bit, but sadly it’s not always possible – or indeed appropriate!

We could see the Philadelphia skyline from some distance; it’s a much bigger city than I had imagined, and quite spread-out. We started singing the theme from ‘Fresh Prince of Bel Air’ (“In West Philadelphia, born and raised, in the playground is where I spent most of my days, chilling out max and relaxing all cool and shooting some b-ball outside of the school…!”) as a sort of welcome to the city, but frowned at the thought of singing Springsteen’s downbeat ‘Streets of Philadelphia’… but then what should we see, first thing, as we came off the freeway? A giant poster of Springsteen himself, who is apparently the subject of an exhibition at the National Constitution Centre…!

Living large at our B&B… who let the scruffy backpackers in?!?
Philadelphia, April 2012

We exited the bus and hopped a cab to our bed & breakfast, which turned out to be MUCH more swanky than we had thought. It’s right in the heart of the historic waterfront district, in a heritage-listed (built in 1796) home. The sitting room and dining room are downstairs, and the guest rooms are on the numerous upper levels. It’s all Chippendale furniture and antique furnishings; classical music greeted us as we came through the front door and our room is small but impeccably decorated, with exposed wooden beams. The bed is so high that I need a stepping-stool to get on it…! No, really. The trials and tribulations of being a shortass, once again. 🙂 Upon check-in, we were informed that wine and cheese would be served from 5:30 to 6:30, and freshly-baked cookies would be served at 8pm, and breakfast was from 8am. Blimey. Wine and cheese and cookies! Quite the change from the YHA’s “You eat off it, you clean it” policy!!! We took our bags up to the room and then set up camp in the sitting room downstairs, playing at being aristocrats on the chaise longue while planning our ‘things to do in Philadelphia’ list. Having figured out a basic plan for the next few days, we set off for a little walk around the neighbourhood without much of an idea of where we were headed. We passed by a Cuban restaurant (I resisted the urge to go in) and a bunch of ridiculously cool-looking bars and restaurants before hitting Market Street. We popped into a little shop called Smak Parlour, which sold cutesy little knick-knacks with cutting slogans on them like, “Inner beauty is for amateurs” and “Yes, I am that kind of girl!” but resisted the urge to buy more junk that we didn’t need!

Continuing along the street, we came across a little park filled with dorks (read: future internet millionaires) playing frisbee, which was part of the larger Independence National Historical Park, an L-shaped green lined with a number of Phialdephia’s most important historical monuments. We snuck around the windows of the Liberty Bell Centre (closed at this time of day) but couldn’t get a glimpse of the legendary bell itself, and then stared admiringly at Independence Hall, which was also closed – it’ll have to wait for another day!

We then walked north along 6th Street, past the National Constitution Centre, and right onto Race Street, admiring all the beautiful little brick-lined laneways and historic buildings we were passing. Philadelphia really has a very different vibe to Washington DC; it buzzes with life and feels much more alternative; there’s something going on down every little alley and all of it seems interesting! It’s also painfully cool… but I think I can forgive it for that! We spotted a wicked-looking bar with a delicious-looking menu, and made a mental note of it for dinner. Continuing down Race Street, we passed a number of specialist industry shops; places to buy glassware for bars and kitchenware for restaurants, along with period restoration companies (complete with cats sunning themselves in the window), trendy boutiques, antique stores and galleries… quite the mix. One shopfront (an architect, I think) had a ‘Little Free Library’ outside – it was a hollowed-out dollhouse with a glass flip-out front. It was filled with about a dozen books, and the instructions read: “This Little Free Library is from friends who wanted to Pay It Forward. They hope you will do the same! Take a book, return a book.” What a great idea!

Elfreth’s Alley,
Philadelphia, April 2012

We wandered over to Elfreth’s Alley, which is apparently America’s oldest residential street. The street is very narrow (just about wide enough to fit a horse or two!), cobblestoned, and filled with houses that date back to the mid-1700s. All of them have wooden panel doors on the ground outside for entry to the basement, and the wooden shutters were just beautiful. We were lucky enough to get there at a time when other tourists were mostly elsewhere; the hordes had left us with the street mostly to ourselves, so we took a leisurely potter from one end to the other. It was quite stunning, but I have to say that I’d probably hate to live there; it’d be like living in a goldfish bowl with all those people passing through! I was, however, charmed by a little side alley called Bladen’s Court, which looked like a miniature grove and led off to ends unknown. Lovely! Just like The Secret Garden! 🙂

From Elfreth’s Alley, starving after missing lunch, we pretty much ran back to the Race Street Cafe, which we had spotted earlier. Charlie ordered a ‘Dogfish Head Noble Rot’ beer (!) and a Spanish chorizo and beef burger with cheese fries, and I had a Race Street Po’ Boy, which was freaking awesome. A long, sub-like roll sprinkled with polenta on the outside and parmesan on the inside and toasted, then filled with a little crab salad (not made with mayo, hallelujah), some lettuce and avocado, and topped with corn-meal coated fried prawns and a yummy savoury (BBQ of some kind?) sauce, served with the crunchiest fries in existence, tomato sauce, and home-made mustard. Oh. My god. I demolished the whole thing in what seemed like one breath. After ending the feeding frenzy, we glanced about to realise that we were almost entirely surrounded by medical staff from, we assume, a nearby hospital. I was mildly peeved by a woman at the next table who was so vapid she almost wasn’t there. The man she was with decided to order something to snack on, and suggested nachos with pulled pork. He asked her what she thought. “I don’t mind.” Well, are you hungry? “Um, I’m okay with whatever.” No really, what do you feel like? “Oh, I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” Do you like nachos with pork? “I really don’t mind.” You could see that he was almost as peeved as I was; if this was a date, she probably wasn’t going to see him again. Get a personality, woman!

Delicious Po’ Boy at the Race Street Cafe,
Philadelphia, April 2012

From Race Street we walked south along 2nd Street, stopping to investigate anything that took our fancy, most specifically a comic book shop called Brave New World. TOYS!!! I came thisclose to buying a ‘Supernatural’ comic book but tamed myself at the last minute. I then had a near heart attack when I saw this t-shirt representing the movie ‘Stand By Me’ (the Pez! The comb! The leech!) but sadly they only had it in small! Aaaagh! When we reached Market Street, we hung a left towards the waterfront where we passed an Italian restaurant and some rather intimidating guys in suits outside… sleep with the fishes!!! After doing a little tour of the neighbourhood (more awesome-looking bars and restaurants; it would take a lifetime to try them all!), we found ourselves back at the hotel just in time for hot chocolate and fresh-baked cookies! Our fellow guest-housers included a Parisian woman, a German guy and a couple from Texas… quite the mix!

And now here we are, pleasantly exhausted and ready for bed after another successful day of eating and doing stuff. 🙂

Thanks for stopping by,

Tara.

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Eating Italian Food in Chinatown, Washington DC, April 2012

25 Apr

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.

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Let The Food Onslaught Begin! Washington DC, April 2012

24 Apr

Monday 23rd April 2012 – so, Charlie and I have been planning this little jaunt of ours for quite a while. His brother lives in Washington, so it made sense that he would fly in from England to catch up with his brother and then he and I would hit the road and trip the light fantastic for a wee while, eating our way from Washington DC to Philadelphia (and Lancaster County) to New York, where he will, sadly, leave me and fly home again while my adventure continues. The last time we caught up was in September 2010, so it was high time that we meet up again! We’re both foodies so I’m guessing that this part of the trip is going to be highly calorific…!

I woke up in the morning at 7, eager to get to the showers before all the teenage girls who are on my floor hogged them at 8. I had heard one of them screeching on her phone the night before, probably to her mum or her dad: “I miss you! I HATE this place! IT’S LIKE JAAAAAAAIL!!!” Two of them had already “fallen sick” because they had actually had to WALK the day before (god forbid!) and I had overheard them making plans for the next day in the washroom, so I was VERY keen not to have to compete with them in the morning for showers and sinks. I sped in and had myself a nice hot shower; afterwards I was standing in my towel, brushing my teeth, and glimpsed the tan lines on my shoulders in the mirror, and I have to admit that I was once again back in Cuba enjoying the sunshine, at least in my mind!

I finished getting ready and headed to the second floor of the hostel where a free breakfast is served; I grabbed a bowl of Cheerios and spotted a nice lady working there who was unpacking a couple of boxes of Otis Spunkmeyer muffins. The second box was blueberry, and I mentioned that they looked good, and we struck up a little conversation about the best kind of muffins. We both came to the consensus that bran muffins are utterly pointless; I said that they were too healthy for me, and she said that only old people felt like they needed bran, just to keep them… regular! We snickered and snorted for a while, and she mentioned that sometimes they have chocolate chip muffins at the hostel, which disappear at an astonishing rate – and that she hoped I would get to try them. Nice lady!

I took my seat at one of the benches and started a ‘to do’ list while I was eating my Cheerios and yummy blueberry muffin. A couple of minutes later, a girl came to sit diagonally opposite me and my internal freak radar started beeping. I glimpsed up to her acknowledge her and smile, then went back to my list. She had white, white, hair and pale skin with glasses thicker than the bottom of a glass Coke bottle which magnified her eyes a thousand-fold, and was staring at me intensely. I guess she must have felt that I was breaking the ‘youth hostel code’ by not engaging her in conversation or something, because about 2 minutes later she shoved her chair back fiercely and snatched up her tray before flouncing to the end of the aisle, pausing only to shoot me a look that would kill lesser beings. I felt bad for a millisecond before I realised that a) she could have tried to start a conversation herself and b) she was obviously a loon anyway, so I probably dodged a bullet there! My thoughts on the situation were thankfully interrupted by the lovely lady from earlier, who was unbelieveably waving a tray of double chocolate muffins in my direction and shouting, “Heeeeeey! Look what I got you! I managed to get some for you to try! You better come get ’em quick!” I was up like a shot! 🙂

I finished my muffin-fest and then went upstairs to brush my teeth before getting a text from Charlie to say that he had arrived at the hostel! I went downstairs and there he was!!! REUNION!!! It’s always like no time has passed at all; I guess that’s what comes from 16 years of friendship. 🙂 He couldn’t check in yet because it was too early, so we said goodbye to his brother Gavin (who had come to drop him off – the first time I had ever met him!), dumped his bags in my room and grabbed our jackets before heading out in search of snacks to kick off our eating marathon.

We wandered down 11th Street and passed a few bland-looking sandwich places, but both of us simultaneously stopped dead outside Crumbs Bake Shop. We had spotted the complex-looking sweet muffins, and we were lost. More sugar with your breakfast, madam? Like kids in a candy store, we pressed ourselves up against the glass display case, salivating over all our options. There were at least 30 or 40 different types of muffins – red velvet, cookie dough, devil’s food, carrot, peanut butter cup, cherry blossom, vanilla coconut, dulce de leche… the list goes on. All were extravagantly iced and delicious-looking, so after discussing our options with the lady behind the counter, we ordered a caramel apple muffin and a mudslide muffin to share, and a couple of mint hot chocolates to round off the dairy fix. We sat at a bench in the window watching the Washingtonians in expensive suits go about their business, caught up on recent news and loosely plotted our day. The hot chocolate was really something special, but after my muffin breakfast at the hostel I only made it part of the way through the caramel apple one, and only managed a bite or two of the mudslide. Shame one me! Weakling! They were so good!

From there, we began our long, long, LONG walk around Washington. We hiked, we plodded, we teetered and we toddled. We fought against the icy wind all day, clutching our ears to keep them warm, and withstood the sprinkling rain that seemed to follow us everywhere, but we managed a hell of a lot in a shortish period of time. Thank god, at least, that it didn’t rain as heavily as it had the day before, or we might have had to give in and spend the day in the museums or risk drowning/freezing on the streets!

Look Mum, I’m at The White House!
Washington DC, April 2012

We didn’t stick to any particular route, but instead headed off in the general direction of a building we wanted to see and took any good-looking detours we spotted on the way. Our first port of call was the White House… of course. On the way, we made a detour to the Ronald Reagan Building, a dome-topped monolith, and passed through Freedom Plaza, where I remember seeing young Americans celebrating on the news on the day that Osama Bin Laden was killed. From there, we skirted up the east side of the White House, past the grey and elaborate Department of Treasury, and found ourselves basically in the back garden of the White House, separated only by a small black fence and a patch of grass. A security guard/police officer strolled nearby, but didn’t seem too concerned by our loitering around. I guess two tourists suffering from a muffin hangover don’t score highly on the ‘national security’ checklist!

We hung a left on the corner, walking south down the west side of the White House, and approached the front of it through a small slip road. I was honestly surprised at how little security there appeared to be in the area; I suppose that a lot of it must be done by surveillance, and I guess there would be a lot of security inside the gates. We stared through the poles on the fence at the Kitchen Garden, and I marvelled that I was actually there, in Washington DC, outside the White House. You see it so often on television that it didn’t actually seem very real; I had to focus very carefully to remind myself of where I was! It’s not quite as imposing as it seems on TV, but then considering the power it wields, it would be wise not to underestimate it. We snapped our touristy pictures and went on our merry way, congratulating ourselves on our awesomeness for being there.

The Washington Monument,
Washington DC, April 2012

We walked along the edge of the Ellipse, a large expanse of grass in front of the White House, and approached the Washington Monument. Phew. It’s a biggun, that’s for sure. All white stone and 555 feet high, it is the tallest stone obelisk in the world, apparently. It was surrounded by posey joggers all slowing down just enough to get into tourist photos…! We skirted around it about 270 degrees, and then went off on a tangent towards the World War Two Memorial, which was yet another ellipse, this time in tasteful grey tones and a central fountain. A diorama on the southern side showed different stages of the life of a soldier in World War Two, starting with conscription and departure, moving into different types of battle on land, on the sea and in the air, and ending with death or a passionate homecoming after the war ends (where apparently they all danced the lindy hop, I was happy to see!). Quite the display.

By this time, I was (and I’m okay with admitting this) just about peeing my pants with excitement about seeing the reflecting pool outside the Lincoln Memorial. All my life I’ve been watching footage of historic speeches in this area (most specifically Martin Luther King’s ‘I Had A Dream’ Speech), and have been captivated by footage of the entire area being filled with people and their banners, some up in the trees just so they could have a glimpse of what was going on. I wanted to walk where they had walked and try to imagine some of the excitement and hope they had felt for their changing world. So it was with some disappointment that we came over the crest of the World War Two Memorial only to see that the reflecting pool had been emptied and was in fact now a construction site; the poolside walkways had been ripped up and foot traffic was being detoured outside the edge of the area. Boo! Still, I refused to let that ruin it for me; as we walked down the detoured area I tried to imagine folks up in the trees and what the atmosphere might have been like. And besides, there was still the Lincoln Memorial – also an outstanding piece of mental imagery that I was looking forward to bringing to life!

We stopped at the Korean War Memorial… at first sight, I thought that there was a group of foolish tourists in white rain ponchos all hanging about in the general area, and I was about to laugh at them until I realised that in fact they were statues of soldiers in raincoats!!!

Me and Abraham Lincoln!
Washington DC, April 2012

As we approached the Lincoln Memorial, the sheer number of tourists increased a thousand-fold; most were being disgorged by buses at a nearby car park. Still, that didn’t stop us from pouncing up the grand staircase and peering into the face of Lincoln himself, serious but friendly-looking, the father of a nation, I suppose. There was a certain air of reverence allotted to him here, and I guess I can understand why. We managed to get some pictures of the both of us with the statue, courtesy of a kind Swede who took pity on us, and outside I tried to mimic Lincoln’s stance for a laugh but with him inside and me outside, he was difficult to see. Never mind!

We then visited the Vietnam War Memorial, which was tastefully done in black marble that reflected the trees nearby and included a statue of a trio of soldiers, looking strong and vital; so many like them, lost so young.

From there, we headed out to Independence Avenue to skirt around the edge of the tidal basin, where we stopped by the Martin Luther King Jr Memorial. It looked like a collection of large grey stones but as we came closer we found that they were all covered in brilliant quotes from King himself, all of which still had a ring of truth today. Continuing around the lake, we strolled through the FD Roosevelt Memorial, which seemed excessively large but was very earthy in tone, and then excitedly looked for the Japanese pagoda, only to find that it was only about six foot tall, just a concrete pillar really…! The cherry trees had lost all their blossoms, but the scent was still rich in the air. We breathed deeply before moving on!

We continued over the inlet bridge to the Thomas Jefferson Memorial, another imposing structure with a giant dome on the top, open to the elements with a statue of Jefferson himself inside, staring out over the tidal basin and across to the Washington Monument. Quotes from him lined the walls, but as a non-American I can’t say I was much moved. I was much more entertained when Charlie tried to find the bathroom and we followed a little tunnel into the bowels of the structure, only to find no signs but a lift which could have taken him to Narnia for all we knew! He took a gamble and jumped in, and returned in one piece, no Aslan in tow; it had indeed been the way to the bathrooms.

Happy happy happy! About to tuck into a chili dog and some cheese fries at Ben’s Chili Bowl,
Washington DC, April 2012

Tired now, and a little windswept and damp, we decided to go in search of a late lunch at a place we’d both heard of called Ben’s Chilli Bowl. We walked to the nearest metro station, which was in the Smithsonian complex, and grabbed a subway to U Street, north of the city centre. The area near U Street and 14th Street is a bit of an iconic area for Washington, heavily African American in demographic and historically significant as a centre of African-American culture, predating the Civil War even. It used to be known as the ‘Black Broadway’, filled with theatres and music venues hosting local big-name acts like Duke Ellington. A lot of freed slaves came here, only moving out of the area when segregation in the rest of the city became less common. When Barack Obama was elected as the first African-American president, the whole area filled with people celebrating his victory.

Charlie loves his thickshake, Ben’s Chili Bowl,
Washington DC, April 2012

We came out of the metro station and made a beeline for Ben’s Chilli Bowl, and as we stepped off the freezing street into the warmth of the diner, we both fell in love. Not much has changed here since its opening in 1958; the booths and stools are the same, and the menu looks as retro as they come, pasted on brown plastic high on the wall. Queuing is done in an orderly manner or the staff reserve the right to shout at you (“I don’t see no single file line in here!!!”), and Motown hits were the soundtrack of the day. Singing along to Harold Melvin’s ‘Bad Luck’, the dreadlocked man in charge flitted from customer to customer issuing compliments or taunts as he saw fit. “I got you, boo!”, to one lady who requested cheese on her fries; “We ain’t serving him! This ain’t Beantown!!!” to the man who dared to enter wearing his Red Sox jersey; “Shamon, Michael Jackson, SHAMON!!!” when a good track came on. What a character. We took up residence in a booth near the entrance and ordered exactly the same thing – 2 cheese fries, 2 vanilla thickshakes and 2 chilli half-smokes (a Washington-style hot dog, more smokey and meaty than your average, topped with chilli and onion). The food arrived, and…. hoooweeee. It was freaking AWESOME. Chilli’s not even really my thing but oh my god, I fell in love with the flavour of everything we were eating. Charlie wolfed his down in apparent milliseconds, and I tried to keep up but couldn’t do as well! The milkshakes were thick and flavourful, the fries were crispy under their cheesy sauce, and everything about the half-smokes was sublime. We sat in companionable silence for a bit, digesting our ill-gotten gains. Sigh. Bliss.

A camera crew was faffing about doing something, but we didn’t take much notice; we were too busy gorging on the food. I had to use the bathroom and found the walls lined with chalkboard, with a little bowl attached to the wall filled with coloured chalk. Guests are encouraged to decorate the bathroom! Sweet! I signed my name and after sitting for a little bit to catch our breath, we headed out into the cold again. We made a pitstop at a chemist to pick up a couple of essentials, and then got the metro back to the hostel for an evening of lazing, reading and stomach recovery (and, strangely, arguing with Frederico the Argentinian about the Falkland Islands…!).

And that’s where I find myself now. We’ve decided to skip dinner; our late lunch was more than enough and Charlie had the keen foresight to bring a bag of Galaxy chocolate with him, so we’re all set! 🙂

I suppose that my biggest impression of Washington so far is that of stately building and elaborate edifices. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.

Thanks for stopping by,

Tara.

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The Return to Toronto and a Quiet Night in Washington DC, April 2012

24 Apr

21st April 2012 – Flying out of Havana was, quite frankly, heartbreaking – not just because I was knackered after being out all night and only managed to get an hour and a half’s sleep, but because I knew I would miss the place and the people. Toronto was cold and grey, but I suppose I knew at least that more awesome adventures lay ahead of me, so I couldn’t be too grumpy!

The 21st and 22nd of April were both fairly non-descript. I arrived in Toronto on the 21st and took an airport bus into the city, where I walked to my youth hostel and checked in. I spent a couple of hours relaxing in my room, backing up photos from my Cuba trip, and then my godmother Frenda came to meet me for a little bit. We went to Union Station and had a chat and a McDonald’s before she had to get her train out to Burlington, which only runs once an hour and takes an hour to get there. I was still suffering from a total lack of sleep so I pretty much went back to my room and sorted things out and slept, as I had another early flight the next day.

The rude awakening at 5am on the 22nd of April was totally yuck. I stumbled around the dorm room at the hostel trying not to wake anyone, and managed to walk my ass into the city centre in time for the 6:30 bus to the airport. I checked in with no issues, and went through USA immigration with very few complaints, too – quite remarkable! The immigration officer pored through every page of my passport and asked a bunch of questions about why I was going to the US, but in the end I guess he correctly decided that I was no threat to their security or to their job market and sent me through. The plane was delayed by a mere 30 minutes, but we made up the time on the flight and arrived in Washington DC basically on time.

It was absolutely tipping it down in Washington. Rain, rain, rain, rain, rain. I managed, however, to get a good look at the Space Shuttle Enterprise (“Make It So!”), which was attached to the back of a NASA 747 jumbo jet out on the airfield; I wonder what they’re doing with it. Once in the terminal, I was raring to go – but then the luggage took over an hour to come off the belt, and when it did it was totally soaked. By the time I’d sorted an airport shuttle that was another half an hour, and the bus took over an hour in the rain and traffic to get to the city centre, so by the time I got to the hostel and the lovely staff had checked me in, the lack of sleep had once again caught up with me – d’oh!

I decided that, after more than three weeks of running about like a headless chicken in the pursuit of sun and fun, it was time to take an afternoon just to chill out and do necessary things – especially considering the pouring rain outside. My 19-year-old self would have been disgusted (“You’re in a new city! It’s your first day here! Get off your butt and do something!”), but in the end I unpacked all my wet clothes and did some laundry before working on blog updates and an email backlog.

Later I decided to venture out in search of food – I had spotted an Indian place round the corner from the hostel and thought I might give it a go. I went out, brolly in hand, ready to fight the battering winds. My umbrella turned inside out countless times and my shoes were wet through within minutes, but I figured it was worth it for Indian food! Sadly, when I got there, it was closed. So I walked a little further to another restaurant… and it was closed. And another, and another, and another. Everything was closed. I know it was Sunday, but really?!? It was 7:30pm, and right near the downtown area! I was obviously missing something. Soaked through from waist to foot, and fairly damp everywhere else thanks to the ineffectiveness of my umbrella, I decided to just stop at the first thing I found open… and sadly, that turned out to be a Quizno’s sub shop a few more blocks down. Sigh! I had a couple of sliders (one meatball, one bacon, beef and cheese) and a packet of barbeque flavoured sweet potato chips (verdict: nothing special) and then steeled myself for the walk back to the hostel, whereafter I changed into dry PJs and sat on my bed faffing with my laptop. Considering how little I had been bothered by a lack of it in Cuba, I certainly am taking to it again like a duck to water!

After making plans with Charlie on how/when to meet the next day (yay!), I eventually made it to bed at around 10:30/11pm, and slept like a baby. I reckon that if I get one more good night’s sleep, I’ll be right as rain.

Thanks for stopping by!

Tara.

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