Hating on Metro is en vogue of late. Don't believe me? Check here. Or here. Or up-to-the-minute here.
Rather than pour a tall glass of Haterade, I've got a brief story of anti-hate. Last night, we went to meet with our wedding photographer to see our pictures and talk about a wedding album. As we left his place, I thought to myself, "I really should use the bathroom before we leave," but I suppressed the urge for some reason and walked out the door. Before we got to the station, it became apparent that was a bad idea.
A little known fact of some stations is that there are restrooms, however poorly marked. All you have to do is ask a station manager. As I scurried off the train at the Pentagon to find the manager, I saw he was helping a passenger asking about the Pentagon Memorial. As I did a Detrol dance, the woman standing next to him told me she was a Metro employee and nicely asked if I needed any help.
Now, I'm not sure if her answer about why I couldn't use the restroom was true, but since she wasn't on duty and not in uniform, I'm inclined to believe her: No public restrooms at the Pentagon station because of security concerns since 9/11. She could've ignored me since she wasn't at work. She could've been rude because tourons wear on her nerves when she's at work. She could've pretended to not speak English, but that would've only worked if she looked like she spoke another language.
But she was none of those things, and politely squashed my hopes of relief before I got home. For that, I thank her.
Yes, I made it, but just barely.
Showing posts with label washington dc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label washington dc. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
what was i thinking? and other random thoughts
Among the various, "Hey, can you...?" duties I've been tasked with this week since I'm out of school this week, going into the District is usually one of my favorites. This task seemed simple enough:
I know what you're thinking, readers in the Southeast. Yes, it does seem rather funny that a vegan bakery in D.C. has the same name as a barbecue chain scattered across the south.
Ordinarily, I'd Metro in, make a morning or day of it with my camera. Well, cupcakes don't travel so well in messenger bags, and summer temperatures (though lovely this week) don't really treat frosting all that well. I made the unthinkable decision to drive into the city to get said confections.
I thought to myself, "Well, it's after rush hour. Traffic shouldn't be too bad." Au contraire! It's summer. Traffic's always bad, especially when taking a tourist-laden route through the National Mall.
Forty-five minutes later (instead of 20), I arrive in Columbia Heights only to find that the streets are all under construction and turning off 14th Street is next to impossible. Bakery is quiet, but bustling. Luckily, I arrived just in time to snag the last two cupcakes that fit the bill.
Leaving, I find my escape route blocked by one way streets and Caterpillar backhoes. An ordinary Virginia driver might've panicked and run over a pedestrian or three while trying to punch in coordinates to a GPS.
Fortunately, my internal GPS kicked in, and I was able to escape the city in far less time than it took me to get in. I guess exploring the city on foot pays off every so often. If only the named streets made as much sense as the grid layout!
Two other random discoveries. The gas station at the corner of Rock Creek Parkway and Virginia Avenue must be the most expensive gas on the east coast. $4.25 for a gallon of regular when the station next to my apartment is less than $3? You must be joking! Second, I think I'm allergic to soy milk.
"Hey, can you go to Sticky Fingers in Columbia Heights to get some vegan cupcakes and cookies for Mr. X?
I know what you're thinking, readers in the Southeast. Yes, it does seem rather funny that a vegan bakery in D.C. has the same name as a barbecue chain scattered across the south.
Ordinarily, I'd Metro in, make a morning or day of it with my camera. Well, cupcakes don't travel so well in messenger bags, and summer temperatures (though lovely this week) don't really treat frosting all that well. I made the unthinkable decision to drive into the city to get said confections.
I thought to myself, "Well, it's after rush hour. Traffic shouldn't be too bad." Au contraire! It's summer. Traffic's always bad, especially when taking a tourist-laden route through the National Mall.
Forty-five minutes later (instead of 20), I arrive in Columbia Heights only to find that the streets are all under construction and turning off 14th Street is next to impossible. Bakery is quiet, but bustling. Luckily, I arrived just in time to snag the last two cupcakes that fit the bill.
Leaving, I find my escape route blocked by one way streets and Caterpillar backhoes. An ordinary Virginia driver might've panicked and run over a pedestrian or three while trying to punch in coordinates to a GPS.
Fortunately, my internal GPS kicked in, and I was able to escape the city in far less time than it took me to get in. I guess exploring the city on foot pays off every so often. If only the named streets made as much sense as the grid layout!
Two other random discoveries. The gas station at the corner of Rock Creek Parkway and Virginia Avenue must be the most expensive gas on the east coast. $4.25 for a gallon of regular when the station next to my apartment is less than $3? You must be joking! Second, I think I'm allergic to soy milk.
Friday, May 21, 2010
i survived
It wasn't that bad.
Seriously.
Bike to Work Day had me all up in arms with worry. On past trips out on the W & OD, I have to walk up some stretches because the climb is too long, and I'm just not conditioned for it.
Today was no exception. One stretch got me out of the saddle, as it always does. A more seasoned two-wheeler rolled past me and asked, "Everything alright?"
Most of the other cyclists were certainly regulars at the commuting. They were decked out in their matching cycling shorts & jerseys. I couldn't have looked more like an indie kid. I thought fixies were all the rage; turns out, most hipster kids are just glad that you're out on a bike. Messengers will tag you as a poseur if you don't know what you're doing on a fixie.
But I digress.
I pulled into work, a bit out of breath and mildly sweating. Took me 45 minutes, a far cry from the 20 it takes in a car. On the way home, however, I had none of the agita from sitting at stoplights in bumper to bumper traffic. When I crossed over the Beltway, a smug grin spread across my face. Though I had about 6 miles left, at least I was out of gridlock.
I'll keep an eye on the weather more closely. It can only get easier each time I do it, right? I reckon that's the whole goal of the movement: one less car.
Seriously.
Bike to Work Day had me all up in arms with worry. On past trips out on the W & OD, I have to walk up some stretches because the climb is too long, and I'm just not conditioned for it.
Today was no exception. One stretch got me out of the saddle, as it always does. A more seasoned two-wheeler rolled past me and asked, "Everything alright?"
Most of the other cyclists were certainly regulars at the commuting. They were decked out in their matching cycling shorts & jerseys. I couldn't have looked more like an indie kid. I thought fixies were all the rage; turns out, most hipster kids are just glad that you're out on a bike. Messengers will tag you as a poseur if you don't know what you're doing on a fixie.
But I digress.
I pulled into work, a bit out of breath and mildly sweating. Took me 45 minutes, a far cry from the 20 it takes in a car. On the way home, however, I had none of the agita from sitting at stoplights in bumper to bumper traffic. When I crossed over the Beltway, a smug grin spread across my face. Though I had about 6 miles left, at least I was out of gridlock.
I'll keep an eye on the weather more closely. It can only get easier each time I do it, right? I reckon that's the whole goal of the movement: one less car.
bike to work day
In the spirit of Go Big, or Go Home, I'm disregarding most conventional wisdom regarding training for long rides or new sports and riding my bike to work tomorrow.
It should be an easy ride along the Washington & Old Dominion Trail; however, the last time I attempted to ride my bike to Vienna, I had to be peeled off my bike by the chiropractor. This time around, my back is a year healthier, and I've been on a few bike rides since the spring began.
Eight miles-ish. Giving myself an hour to get there. I think I ought to be able to do it. At least I know what I'm getting myself into. Worst case scenario, I hop the Metro to get home. Of course, that means I'll need to push my bike to the station with my tail between my legs.
Tweets from the stop signs? We'll see.
Monday, April 19, 2010
traffic woes
I know, not so exciting. On my road trips in years past, I never had to worry too much about traffic. Just avoid Atlanta's rush hour, and we were set. Nowadays, DC's rush hour impacts travel plans too much. Tie ups can occur for insignificant reasons.
Recently, I've begun compiling a list of things I want to see at the beginning of a traffic tie up to justify my extra time in the car.
As you sit in traffic this week, think of something comical and laugh instead of stew. In the comments, what would ease your frustration in a typical Beltway traffic tie up?
Recently, I've begun compiling a list of things I want to see at the beginning of a traffic tie up to justify my extra time in the car.
1) Any accident between a clown car and a busload of nuns. Clowns acting silly and nuns scratching their heads as traffic creeps by single file.
2) A 47 car pileup in which no one gets hurt. All drivers and passengers breathing a collective sigh of relief as their payloads of rubber chickens and bubble gum are strewn across the blacktop.
3) A minor fender bender(as is more often the case). Both drivers, mad as hell, get out of their cars and conveniently have either Hulk fist boxing gloves or sumo suits, and go at it on the shoulder. Now that's cause for rubbernecking!
As you sit in traffic this week, think of something comical and laugh instead of stew. In the comments, what would ease your frustration in a typical Beltway traffic tie up?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
one year later
In honor of one year since setting forth towards that M word many men fear, I thought I'd share the story. Names have been omitted, as usual. No sense in getting too personal!
“You’re next,” the groom whispered to me as we’re saying farewell at his wedding reception. I laughed; little did he know I’d paid the deposit on the ring and was picking it up as soon as we returned to Virginia.
All the pinball ideas bouncing around in my brain about how to do it. I knew the answer would be yes, but the question had to be memorable and unique. Everything that we’d done together over the time we’ve been together has been such. A proposal over dinner was too cliché and expected. I wanted to surprise her, and soon. Our upcoming trip to California presented too many obstacles to keeping it under wraps.
Morning of, I’m sneaking around, getting everything together for the day. Ring Pop, check. Camera, check. Scavenger hunt, check. What am I forgetting?
Oh, yeah. The ring. As soon as I pulled the box out, my pulse started racing. It wouldn’t quite slow down until I laid down that night.
We returned to the scene of our first date under the guise of preparing for an upcoming field trip. It was plausible, and she was none the wiser. All my sneaking would be unneeded; she never suspected a thing. Strolling through the city from Metro Center presented many occasions in my brain. How about there? No. Ok then, there? No.
The internal argument of where the best spot would be was silly really. When I asked her out, I picked a place she’d already been as an option. Turns out it had been on another date. Oops. Our first kiss was memorable in setting, but I interrupted her mid-sentence long after several “perfect” moments had passed.
Waiting was killing me inside. Walking in the door of the museum, I took a deep breath. The opportunity would present itself. It had to. My scavenger hunt was a blur. I added a few questions, racing through the museum, often racing ahead of her like a five year-old in Toys-R-Us.
And then it came. We took a breather on a small balcony overlooking the Oceans exhibit. I’d already stashed the Ring Pop in my pocket. “It’s now or never,” I thought, “This is it. The ‘moment’.”
I lean over to her, dry throat, mind swimming, and squeaked, “Marry me.”
Her eyes got really big, as if to say, “Is he serious?” Which is exactly what she said, I think.
“You’re not even on one knee,” she challenged me. Dropping to one knee, I repeated my request phrased as a command.
“Psssh. That’s not even a real ring,” she said with a glimmer of hope mixed with fear mixed with confusion in her eyes. I reached into my bag and pull out the ring. She immediately started crying and laughing and jumping.
Now it’s her turn to squeak feebly, “Ok.” So I was wrong about the answer, but then again, I didn’t give her much of a choice.
Of course, I didn’t have a chance when we first met either.
“You’re next,” the groom whispered to me as we’re saying farewell at his wedding reception. I laughed; little did he know I’d paid the deposit on the ring and was picking it up as soon as we returned to Virginia.
All the pinball ideas bouncing around in my brain about how to do it. I knew the answer would be yes, but the question had to be memorable and unique. Everything that we’d done together over the time we’ve been together has been such. A proposal over dinner was too cliché and expected. I wanted to surprise her, and soon. Our upcoming trip to California presented too many obstacles to keeping it under wraps.
Morning of, I’m sneaking around, getting everything together for the day. Ring Pop, check. Camera, check. Scavenger hunt, check. What am I forgetting?
Oh, yeah. The ring. As soon as I pulled the box out, my pulse started racing. It wouldn’t quite slow down until I laid down that night.
We returned to the scene of our first date under the guise of preparing for an upcoming field trip. It was plausible, and she was none the wiser. All my sneaking would be unneeded; she never suspected a thing. Strolling through the city from Metro Center presented many occasions in my brain. How about there? No. Ok then, there? No.
The internal argument of where the best spot would be was silly really. When I asked her out, I picked a place she’d already been as an option. Turns out it had been on another date. Oops. Our first kiss was memorable in setting, but I interrupted her mid-sentence long after several “perfect” moments had passed.
Waiting was killing me inside. Walking in the door of the museum, I took a deep breath. The opportunity would present itself. It had to. My scavenger hunt was a blur. I added a few questions, racing through the museum, often racing ahead of her like a five year-old in Toys-R-Us.
And then it came. We took a breather on a small balcony overlooking the Oceans exhibit. I’d already stashed the Ring Pop in my pocket. “It’s now or never,” I thought, “This is it. The ‘moment’.”
I lean over to her, dry throat, mind swimming, and squeaked, “Marry me.”
Her eyes got really big, as if to say, “Is he serious?” Which is exactly what she said, I think.
“You’re not even on one knee,” she challenged me. Dropping to one knee, I repeated my request phrased as a command.
“Psssh. That’s not even a real ring,” she said with a glimmer of hope mixed with fear mixed with confusion in her eyes. I reached into my bag and pull out the ring. She immediately started crying and laughing and jumping.
Now it’s her turn to squeak feebly, “Ok.” So I was wrong about the answer, but then again, I didn’t give her much of a choice.
Of course, I didn’t have a chance when we first met either.
Monday, March 1, 2010
long overdue snow stories, part two
The day after my fresh powder riding experience, I got a call from Snow. No, really, that's his name.
Anyhow, he was stuck at home due to the snow and wanted to go snowboarding. Free riding fresh in my mind, we set out for the Iwo Jima Memorial and the Netherlands Carillon in search of a slightly taller hill with a less exhausting approach than the one I'd tried 24 hours prior.
He packed a shovel to build a learning-sized kicker on the side of the hill we found. A hill that many gather on in July to watch the fireworks over the National Mall. In view were the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, and U.S. Capitol. Clear, blue skies above, and nary a soul nearby.
As we hiked and rode over and over again, we got a few curious stares from passing cars and a few walkers. Before too long, I was getting better at catching air, though my landings were still spectacular failures. My partner-in-crime slash instructor was hitting all of his 180s, but couldn't quite manage the 360s he was working on.
After a while, an SUV rolls up, and two guys get out. They say their from the BBC and want to take some footage of us on the hill. Um, sure?
To be honest, I wasn't exactly jazzed with the idea. Cameras intimidate me in my best pursuits, which is why perhaps I hide behind mine while shooting my favorite hobbies. After a dozen or so falls on my part and much better success on his, they pack up their gear, stick a microphone in our faces, and ask us a few off-the-cuff questions. Our answers were less than eloquent, but we were apparently on that night's news on BBC. Too bad we never got to see it, despite giving the crew our email addresses.
The story's not done yet. A guy in a Navy (capital N for branch of service, not color) sweatshirt shows up toting two better-than-mine Nikons. He sets himself up for some photos of our view and also asks if he can shoot some of us. Content to be captured by still frames this time, we both think, "Why not?" I think I was more excited for this prospect because even if I fell every time, there were bound to be a few shots that at least made me look like I knew what I was doing.
I was not disappointed. By and by, he emailed me the files, and they were excellent. Check out some more of Justin Sen's photography, featuring yours truly at his website.
...and now you know the rest of the story.
Anyhow, he was stuck at home due to the snow and wanted to go snowboarding. Free riding fresh in my mind, we set out for the Iwo Jima Memorial and the Netherlands Carillon in search of a slightly taller hill with a less exhausting approach than the one I'd tried 24 hours prior.
He packed a shovel to build a learning-sized kicker on the side of the hill we found. A hill that many gather on in July to watch the fireworks over the National Mall. In view were the Lincoln Memorial, Washington Monument, and U.S. Capitol. Clear, blue skies above, and nary a soul nearby.
As we hiked and rode over and over again, we got a few curious stares from passing cars and a few walkers. Before too long, I was getting better at catching air, though my landings were still spectacular failures. My partner-in-crime slash instructor was hitting all of his 180s, but couldn't quite manage the 360s he was working on.
After a while, an SUV rolls up, and two guys get out. They say their from the BBC and want to take some footage of us on the hill. Um, sure?
To be honest, I wasn't exactly jazzed with the idea. Cameras intimidate me in my best pursuits, which is why perhaps I hide behind mine while shooting my favorite hobbies. After a dozen or so falls on my part and much better success on his, they pack up their gear, stick a microphone in our faces, and ask us a few off-the-cuff questions. Our answers were less than eloquent, but we were apparently on that night's news on BBC. Too bad we never got to see it, despite giving the crew our email addresses.
The story's not done yet. A guy in a Navy (capital N for branch of service, not color) sweatshirt shows up toting two better-than-mine Nikons. He sets himself up for some photos of our view and also asks if he can shoot some of us. Content to be captured by still frames this time, we both think, "Why not?" I think I was more excited for this prospect because even if I fell every time, there were bound to be a few shots that at least made me look like I knew what I was doing.
I was not disappointed. By and by, he emailed me the files, and they were excellent. Check out some more of Justin Sen's photography, featuring yours truly at his website.
...and now you know the rest of the story.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
d.c. plates
I find myself doing double takes around here when it comes to license plates. On one hand, I see just more Florida plates than I do for any neighboring states (excluding Virginia and Maryland, of course!) I found it odd until I learned that military families don't have to relinquish their home residence status if Uncle Sam's shipping them all over the country. Probably why I saw so many out-of-state plates in the parking lot at school.
On to D.C. plates. Until I moved to the DMV, I had rarely seen an actual Washington D.C. license plate. Since moving here, I think I see diplomat plates more often than actual District plates. It makes me think one of two things:
One, why'd that person cross the Potomac? In the case of my District friends, it takes quite an event for them to cross the river. For the most part, if it isn't Metro accessible, they're not going. More often than not, it appears that they've just left to go shopping somewhere nearby, get some cheap gas, go to work (?). I guess the Target in Columbia Heights is too far out of the way for some!
Two, the double take in my brain reprocesses, "Wait. People that live in the District have cars? Since when? Cash for Clunkers must be working!"
On to D.C. plates. Until I moved to the DMV, I had rarely seen an actual Washington D.C. license plate. Since moving here, I think I see diplomat plates more often than actual District plates. It makes me think one of two things:
One, why'd that person cross the Potomac? In the case of my District friends, it takes quite an event for them to cross the river. For the most part, if it isn't Metro accessible, they're not going. More often than not, it appears that they've just left to go shopping somewhere nearby, get some cheap gas, go to work (?). I guess the Target in Columbia Heights is too far out of the way for some!
Two, the double take in my brain reprocesses, "Wait. People that live in the District have cars? Since when? Cash for Clunkers must be working!"
Thursday, July 30, 2009
spectacular street grub
Most of the time when thinking of street vendor food, overdone hot dogs and rock hard pretzels are what come to mind. Every so often, you find a spot that has something resembling food you'd eat by choice, not necessity. Ever so rarely, you find a gem with typical street vendor food presented in a not so typical way. Pupusas. Fish tacos. Shaved ice.
I heard through the interweb grapevine about a street cart that just opened that is one such gem. I ventured there, and man, was I impressed!
Sliders are the main fare, but don't think White Castle or Krystal steamers. I had the lamb meatball slider. It had slaw and goat cheese aioli on it. You get two sliders in an order, not quite enough to fill me up, but at four to six bucks, two orders won't break the bank. Add a drink and a bag of chips for $1.50.
They're open 7 days a week, and I plan on stopping by the next time I'm in the neighborhood, whether I'm hungry or not. Hey, it's for a good cause!
Spy Diner
9th & F Streets, NW
I heard through the interweb grapevine about a street cart that just opened that is one such gem. I ventured there, and man, was I impressed!
Sliders are the main fare, but don't think White Castle or Krystal steamers. I had the lamb meatball slider. It had slaw and goat cheese aioli on it. You get two sliders in an order, not quite enough to fill me up, but at four to six bucks, two orders won't break the bank. Add a drink and a bag of chips for $1.50.
They're open 7 days a week, and I plan on stopping by the next time I'm in the neighborhood, whether I'm hungry or not. Hey, it's for a good cause!
Spy Diner
9th & F Streets, NW
Monday, July 20, 2009
ethiopian adventure
"Well, what do you want to eat?" I asked.
"Ethiopian food," he replied, "Can't get that in Gainesville."
There's a few options for Ethiopian food in the area. Never having eaten it myself, I had to do some research. U Street seemed to have the largest enclave of Ethiopian restaurants and shops. Several sites actually called it Little Ethiopia. How many cities have one of those, outside of Addis Ababa anyhow?
Sorting through the recommendations, I decided on Etete (1942 9th Street NW). It won several Washingtonian magazine awards, the reviews were plentiful and (mostly) good. We got off at the U Street/Cardozo/African American War Memorial Metro stop. (Sidenote: Quite possibly the longest Metro station stop in the system!) People watching all the while, we followed a foursome of out-of-their-element girls into Etete. Go figure.
Candler and I ordered honey wine and sambusas before the main food came out. The honey wine tasted a bit like a dessert wine with a hops bite. Not bad, but not great. The sambusas were delicious. Lentils and meat and jalapenos and other veggies. Flaky crust on the outside. An African empanada, more or less.
For the main course, we opted for a veggie sampler, kifta, and a lamb stew. All of the veggie mounds were delicious. Kifta is a spicy blend of ground meat that is often served raw. We opted for medium, but it came out looking like browned ground round. It was infinitely tastier though. The lamb stew was rich with a slight vinegary bite to it. All of the dishes came out on a giant platter with a basket of rolled up injera. Injera is to Ethiopian food what chopsticks are to the Far East. I liken it to a chewier pancake. We used it like pita to pick up bite-sized morsels of the entrees.
All told, we couldn't eat all the food we ordered. Too much deliciousness. Knowing we were headed to Gibson's afterwards, we boxed it up anyways. Not five steps out of the restaurant, a homeless man in a wheelchair asked for some spare change. I offered the leftovers instead, and he graciously accepted.
"Ethiopian food," he replied, "Can't get that in Gainesville."
There's a few options for Ethiopian food in the area. Never having eaten it myself, I had to do some research. U Street seemed to have the largest enclave of Ethiopian restaurants and shops. Several sites actually called it Little Ethiopia. How many cities have one of those, outside of Addis Ababa anyhow?
Sorting through the recommendations, I decided on Etete (1942 9th Street NW). It won several Washingtonian magazine awards, the reviews were plentiful and (mostly) good. We got off at the U Street/Cardozo/African American War Memorial Metro stop. (Sidenote: Quite possibly the longest Metro station stop in the system!) People watching all the while, we followed a foursome of out-of-their-element girls into Etete. Go figure.
Candler and I ordered honey wine and sambusas before the main food came out. The honey wine tasted a bit like a dessert wine with a hops bite. Not bad, but not great. The sambusas were delicious. Lentils and meat and jalapenos and other veggies. Flaky crust on the outside. An African empanada, more or less.
For the main course, we opted for a veggie sampler, kifta, and a lamb stew. All of the veggie mounds were delicious. Kifta is a spicy blend of ground meat that is often served raw. We opted for medium, but it came out looking like browned ground round. It was infinitely tastier though. The lamb stew was rich with a slight vinegary bite to it. All of the dishes came out on a giant platter with a basket of rolled up injera. Injera is to Ethiopian food what chopsticks are to the Far East. I liken it to a chewier pancake. We used it like pita to pick up bite-sized morsels of the entrees.
All told, we couldn't eat all the food we ordered. Too much deliciousness. Knowing we were headed to Gibson's afterwards, we boxed it up anyways. Not five steps out of the restaurant, a homeless man in a wheelchair asked for some spare change. I offered the leftovers instead, and he graciously accepted.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
welsh food and weird art
Two summer traditions in D.C. were concurrently happening for the last two weeks or so. With the move, I didn't have much of a chance to get to either of them until this week. Well, I guess it was Friday. Hooray for federal holidays during the summer!
First off was the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. Each year, the folks at the Smithsonian feature one foreign land and one American region. Last year, I took some pictures of the people and artists of Bhutan. This year featured Wales as the former and soul food as the latter. They highlight food, music, homes, clothing, and any other aspects of life that would be interesting enough to bring people from across the world to share with American tourists in tube socks and fanny packs. In any case, I was excited to try on my Welsh culture for a few hours.
Too bad. We got there a little bit late. Watching paint dry delayed our arrival and the only thing we got to do was try some world-famous Welsh cuisine. You've not heard of famous Welsh cuisine? You must be joking! I highly suggest getting out and finding some Welsh cheese. It's pretty tasty and all we've got to offer. It was a little warm to try the cawl, which is a tasty-looking stew with lamb and leeks and all manners of other vegetables. I think I'll find a recipe and make some in the winter, when it's rainy and more Wales-like around here.
Being disappointed by our late arrival, we headed off on the green line to Nationals Park for another summertime tradition: watching the Nats lose.
Who am I kidding? We can do that for the majority of their 81 home games. We were headed to Artomatic. In its ninth year, it is a random assortment of excellent or subpar art in all media. Nine floors of it in a recently constructed building. I found some inspiration in my photography, as in, I take better pictures than some of the "featured" artists. Maybe I'll try to get some work shown and sold sometime. That'd be pretty rad.
At least this year, I didn't see any naked men running around. That would've made our final stop a little harder to stomach. To round out the day/evening, we headed to a D.C. landmark called Ben's Chili Bowl. It's been an institution for over 50 years. You won't find health food here; but what you will find in abundance is a healthy dose of chili on burgers, fries, dogs, and half-smokes. Wash it all down with a thicker-than-concrete milkshake, and you're good to go. Expect a line, and bring cash. It's worth it.
First off was the Smithsonian Folklife Festival. Each year, the folks at the Smithsonian feature one foreign land and one American region. Last year, I took some pictures of the people and artists of Bhutan. This year featured Wales as the former and soul food as the latter. They highlight food, music, homes, clothing, and any other aspects of life that would be interesting enough to bring people from across the world to share with American tourists in tube socks and fanny packs. In any case, I was excited to try on my Welsh culture for a few hours.
Too bad. We got there a little bit late. Watching paint dry delayed our arrival and the only thing we got to do was try some world-famous Welsh cuisine. You've not heard of famous Welsh cuisine? You must be joking! I highly suggest getting out and finding some Welsh cheese. It's pretty tasty and all we've got to offer. It was a little warm to try the cawl, which is a tasty-looking stew with lamb and leeks and all manners of other vegetables. I think I'll find a recipe and make some in the winter, when it's rainy and more Wales-like around here.
Being disappointed by our late arrival, we headed off on the green line to Nationals Park for another summertime tradition: watching the Nats lose.
Who am I kidding? We can do that for the majority of their 81 home games. We were headed to Artomatic. In its ninth year, it is a random assortment of excellent or subpar art in all media. Nine floors of it in a recently constructed building. I found some inspiration in my photography, as in, I take better pictures than some of the "featured" artists. Maybe I'll try to get some work shown and sold sometime. That'd be pretty rad.
At least this year, I didn't see any naked men running around. That would've made our final stop a little harder to stomach. To round out the day/evening, we headed to a D.C. landmark called Ben's Chili Bowl. It's been an institution for over 50 years. You won't find health food here; but what you will find in abundance is a healthy dose of chili on burgers, fries, dogs, and half-smokes. Wash it all down with a thicker-than-concrete milkshake, and you're good to go. Expect a line, and bring cash. It's worth it.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
back in time
She and I show up to the 9:30 Club last night. The email said get there at 6:30. Line's down the block. Doors were at 6:30; show at 7. Free tickets are confusing.
In stark contrast to the last time we went to this venue, we were in the door long before the show started. Good thing, too, since we both realized we were pretty hungry at that point. Decent food was had, an iced coffee to wake me up. As far as unexpected club food went, it was pretty tasty. The coffee was proper brew, not that overly strong Starbucrap.
Back to the music. We wandered upstairs and found a good spot with some swinging room. We were under the impression that there was an opening band; for $30 ticket prices, it only made sense. Nope. The band comes out onstage: generic rock band-looking guitar picker & drummer, Motown-esque backup dancers, and a blind pianist older than Ray Charles. Sharon Jones struts out on stage shortly thereafter and launches into her set.
The music was great. The crowd was into it. The vibe permeated your bones and made you want to dance. We swung and spun, as the mood fit the gospel and soul and funk and amazing music coming from Ms. Jones and her backups The Dap Kings.. The crowd below undulated to the music, much like the waves mimicked by last weekend's dance performance in NYC. The he-done-me-wrong blues songs mixed in also, making for a roller coaster ride of tempos throughout the show.
The problem with an early show at 9:30 Club is they tend to be a little shorter, with no chance for an encore. 'Twas the case last night. After an hour, she thanked us for coming, the house lights came on, and the crew started setting up for Lady Sovereign's later show. Oh well; it was great while it lasted!
In stark contrast to the last time we went to this venue, we were in the door long before the show started. Good thing, too, since we both realized we were pretty hungry at that point. Decent food was had, an iced coffee to wake me up. As far as unexpected club food went, it was pretty tasty. The coffee was proper brew, not that overly strong Starbucrap.
Back to the music. We wandered upstairs and found a good spot with some swinging room. We were under the impression that there was an opening band; for $30 ticket prices, it only made sense. Nope. The band comes out onstage: generic rock band-looking guitar picker & drummer, Motown-esque backup dancers, and a blind pianist older than Ray Charles. Sharon Jones struts out on stage shortly thereafter and launches into her set.
The music was great. The crowd was into it. The vibe permeated your bones and made you want to dance. We swung and spun, as the mood fit the gospel and soul and funk and amazing music coming from Ms. Jones and her backups The Dap Kings.. The crowd below undulated to the music, much like the waves mimicked by last weekend's dance performance in NYC. The he-done-me-wrong blues songs mixed in also, making for a roller coaster ride of tempos throughout the show.
The problem with an early show at 9:30 Club is they tend to be a little shorter, with no chance for an encore. 'Twas the case last night. After an hour, she thanked us for coming, the house lights came on, and the crew started setting up for Lady Sovereign's later show. Oh well; it was great while it lasted!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
one for the ages
i've been in a few crowds in my day. football games at the swamp tend to have more than a few die hards among the faithful. rush hour traffic on the beltway. fire drills at school. the only difference is that all of the above happen week in, week out; day in, day out; or month after brake-gas-brake-gas month.
an inauguration of a new president occurs only quadrennially. people can't get used to it because their memories fade, and rarely was it so highly attended as yesterday's hullaballoo surrounding our new 44th president. the peaceful transfer of power between two diametrically opposite leaders is rarely, if ever, accomplished in all but a few of the countries on earth.
for a large portion of the crowd, this meant more to them than just a new president. this was more than a young, charismatic new president replacing a curmudgeonly, reclusive, widely reviled old president. this was a sense of triumph. a sense of satisfaction. the highest office in the land finally attained, now the rest of the gaps in our country's history of exclusion and segregation and discrimination can finally begin to be filled in. it was really moving to see women in their 60s, braving the cold with us young folks, for the chance to see something that they'd never have dreamt of as children. to see the chests of old black men swell with pride at seeing barack put his hand on lincoln's bible and take the oath of office.
hearing the chatter around me afterwards, it really hit home how inclusive his administration can be and the sense of pride, regardless of race, that all felt walking around the district yesterday.
"i really liked that he included nonbelievers."
"he wants to bring science back into government."
"he wants to end sectarian politics."
jaded and cynical as i am about politics in general, i can't help but think that a lot of the soaring rhetoric and ideals embodied in his speech yesterday were jabs at the past administration. with bush sitting nearby, the camera panned to him at each of those talking points; he sat emotionless and silent. just as i suspect he'll be from here on out.
an inauguration of a new president occurs only quadrennially. people can't get used to it because their memories fade, and rarely was it so highly attended as yesterday's hullaballoo surrounding our new 44th president. the peaceful transfer of power between two diametrically opposite leaders is rarely, if ever, accomplished in all but a few of the countries on earth.
for a large portion of the crowd, this meant more to them than just a new president. this was more than a young, charismatic new president replacing a curmudgeonly, reclusive, widely reviled old president. this was a sense of triumph. a sense of satisfaction. the highest office in the land finally attained, now the rest of the gaps in our country's history of exclusion and segregation and discrimination can finally begin to be filled in. it was really moving to see women in their 60s, braving the cold with us young folks, for the chance to see something that they'd never have dreamt of as children. to see the chests of old black men swell with pride at seeing barack put his hand on lincoln's bible and take the oath of office.
hearing the chatter around me afterwards, it really hit home how inclusive his administration can be and the sense of pride, regardless of race, that all felt walking around the district yesterday.
"i really liked that he included nonbelievers."
"he wants to bring science back into government."
"he wants to end sectarian politics."
jaded and cynical as i am about politics in general, i can't help but think that a lot of the soaring rhetoric and ideals embodied in his speech yesterday were jabs at the past administration. with bush sitting nearby, the camera panned to him at each of those talking points; he sat emotionless and silent. just as i suspect he'll be from here on out.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
and we're taking flight....
tom cruise famously raced jets in top gun on his rice rocket bike. cary grant ran from a biplane shooting at him in north by northwest. mike myers and dana carvey argued at the end of a runway in wayne's world. myself, i have a spot to go nearby that i can watch the planes take off and land with impunity. seems to me that it's awfully hard to get near a runway these days, and gravelly point at reagan national airport is a ready made park at the north end of the runway.
i've been there several times. first trip, cold weather, curled up on my crash pad in the bed of the danger ranger sharing a sleeping bag with her when we first started dating. we talked for what seemed like hours, alternately between serious and silly topics alike. before we knew it, the park was closed at 10, and i had to trek her back to vienna. or maybe just her car. we've been there since. on a nice long fall bike ride during the daytime. families picnicking. kids running around. flag footballers tossing the pigskin over the roar of DC-10s and 727s.
so for the first time in my revamped life in d.c., i found myself wondering as my flight took off, "what memories are being made below me right now? a new couple like we were getting to know one another? a couple of old, married folks? or just some teenagers looking for somewhere to ride their bikes or wreak havoc or be stupid without being hassled?"
i've been there several times. first trip, cold weather, curled up on my crash pad in the bed of the danger ranger sharing a sleeping bag with her when we first started dating. we talked for what seemed like hours, alternately between serious and silly topics alike. before we knew it, the park was closed at 10, and i had to trek her back to vienna. or maybe just her car. we've been there since. on a nice long fall bike ride during the daytime. families picnicking. kids running around. flag footballers tossing the pigskin over the roar of DC-10s and 727s.
so for the first time in my revamped life in d.c., i found myself wondering as my flight took off, "what memories are being made below me right now? a new couple like we were getting to know one another? a couple of old, married folks? or just some teenagers looking for somewhere to ride their bikes or wreak havoc or be stupid without being hassled?"
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
a.k.a. i'm a nerd
museums are fun. there's a ton of them up here. she and i went museum hopping yesterday. we were on a mission to see two new exhibits. i guess that's what happens when you actually take in culture. you can pick and choose what you want to see. only want to see one exhibit at a museum? have at it. you ain't missing nothing.
so, museum number one. natural history. last year, checked out some of the permanent exhibits and a kids' photo competition. it was a lot of fun. probably more for the company than the rocks and minerals. this year, there was a new oceans exhibit that just opened. it. was. rad. there's a right whale hanging from the ceiling. there's a giant squid and a coelacanth. a reef tank with a skittles bag full of nemo's friends. excited kids running amok. on a whim, checked out the butterflies exhibit too. not nearly as big as the exhibits i've seen in chattanooga or in south florida, but it's small size meant that the hundreds of papillons were right in your face.
museum number two. american art. it's paired up with the portrait gallery, where we've previously seen the hip hop portraiture exhibit. there was a new ansel adams and georgia o'keefe exhibit. this makes two adams exhibits we've seen in the district. this one was really cool because of its juxtaposition with o'keefe's southwestern paintings. it was really awesome to see the pieces that clearly shared a subject. ansel's photography was less impressionistic that georgia's, but it was fairly obvious that the subjects were the same. as usual, i was fascinated by his work and fairly amazed that there were more shots of his that i'd not seen before.
it was nice not being harassed as locals in our day of touristing. perhaps it was the backpack and sneakers. perhaps it was the baguettes and cheese for a picnic lunch. perhaps it was asking real tourists to take goofy pictures of us on the mall. most of all, it may have been the only-a-tourist-will-wear-this t-shirts we bought at a kiosk in the ballston mall. i should do that more often!
so, museum number one. natural history. last year, checked out some of the permanent exhibits and a kids' photo competition. it was a lot of fun. probably more for the company than the rocks and minerals. this year, there was a new oceans exhibit that just opened. it. was. rad. there's a right whale hanging from the ceiling. there's a giant squid and a coelacanth. a reef tank with a skittles bag full of nemo's friends. excited kids running amok. on a whim, checked out the butterflies exhibit too. not nearly as big as the exhibits i've seen in chattanooga or in south florida, but it's small size meant that the hundreds of papillons were right in your face.
museum number two. american art. it's paired up with the portrait gallery, where we've previously seen the hip hop portraiture exhibit. there was a new ansel adams and georgia o'keefe exhibit. this makes two adams exhibits we've seen in the district. this one was really cool because of its juxtaposition with o'keefe's southwestern paintings. it was really awesome to see the pieces that clearly shared a subject. ansel's photography was less impressionistic that georgia's, but it was fairly obvious that the subjects were the same. as usual, i was fascinated by his work and fairly amazed that there were more shots of his that i'd not seen before.
it was nice not being harassed as locals in our day of touristing. perhaps it was the backpack and sneakers. perhaps it was the baguettes and cheese for a picnic lunch. perhaps it was asking real tourists to take goofy pictures of us on the mall. most of all, it may have been the only-a-tourist-will-wear-this t-shirts we bought at a kiosk in the ballston mall. i should do that more often!
Thursday, September 4, 2008
d.c. politics saturation
the funny thing about this city and the surrounding 'burbs is how saturated with politics everything is. everyone has an opinion about this or that and feels the need to share it when a tiny opportunity presents itself. case in point, last night as i shopped for the contents of a care package for an old friend. he's a marine, deployed in afghanistan. it's his fourth tour overseas; the previous three were in iraq.
i asked romona the cashier to keep my two bags of stuff separate, as one was a care package for a marine. we got to talking about his duties and deployments when out of the blue, "well, he's got bush to thank for that!"
silence. crickets. i didn't know how to respond. many of you don't know brian. he's a character to say the least. as long as i've known him, all he wanted to do was serve our country. as i thought more about it, it became clear to me why i'm so conflicted about the war.
do i think we were misled into iraq? more than likely. do i think that guys like brian bemoan their multiple deployments? absolutely not. if it weren't iraq or afghanistan, it'd be some other theater and far more covert. he'd be bored as hell stuck behind a desk, and while special ops guys are an anomaly, it is what he signed up for. he wouldn't still be at it after 11 years if he weren't good at it, and sad as it is, there's plenty of work for him to do. we're in too deep in iraq to cut and run. i don't think there's an easy answer, but i'm glad that there's been more positive news lately. hopefully, we can help straighten things out and our next president gets all the credit.
i asked romona the cashier to keep my two bags of stuff separate, as one was a care package for a marine. we got to talking about his duties and deployments when out of the blue, "well, he's got bush to thank for that!"
silence. crickets. i didn't know how to respond. many of you don't know brian. he's a character to say the least. as long as i've known him, all he wanted to do was serve our country. as i thought more about it, it became clear to me why i'm so conflicted about the war.
do i think we were misled into iraq? more than likely. do i think that guys like brian bemoan their multiple deployments? absolutely not. if it weren't iraq or afghanistan, it'd be some other theater and far more covert. he'd be bored as hell stuck behind a desk, and while special ops guys are an anomaly, it is what he signed up for. he wouldn't still be at it after 11 years if he weren't good at it, and sad as it is, there's plenty of work for him to do. we're in too deep in iraq to cut and run. i don't think there's an easy answer, but i'm glad that there's been more positive news lately. hopefully, we can help straighten things out and our next president gets all the credit.
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