An American in America's Capital

During the four months I spent in Italy, every weekend was spent sightseeing. If I wasn't traveling to a different city or country, I was busy learning the ins and outs of Rome. I knew it was unlikely I'd ever get to travel that extensively again, so I took advantage of it. I worked for two and a half years in Manhattan and lived in Boston for four years during college. The last "touristy" thing I did in the Big Apple was during my 8th grade field trip and waited until the last moment to see the sights in Boston, when friends came to visit from out of town. I think it's difficult to view a city, or country for that matter, in which one lives or works through the fresh eyes of a tourist. One does not notice the detailed architecture, or visit the art museums, or even take in the surrounding culture. Sometimes it's hard to be a tourist in one's own country, where one does not wish to see oneself as a visitor. Sometimes it's just put off, forever, since it's the sights are always "there", to be taken advantage of when time allows.

This weekend, put on our tourist caps, broke out our cameras (or iPhones rather), and pocket map, and headed to DC. Kurt's aunt and uncle gave us ten tickets to a Phillies at Nationals game for our wedding. So, we invited some friends and decided to make a weekend of it. We found a great deal on a hotel on hotwire.com and with minimal planning, (so unlike Control-Freak Me) drove down Friday morning. We dropped our bags at the hotel and hit the sights. My first impression was how pretty the buildings were (once we made it past the ghetto), and how spacious the city seemed. No skyscrapers=more sun!

I was surprised how close all the sights were to one another. We were able to see most of the major monuments in about 3 hours. The White House was our first stop. Apparently, you can only get a tour if you have the endorsement of your Congressman/-woman. Next time.

The best part of the White House was the old woman protesting on the sidewalk. From the looks of it, I'm pretty sure she's been there, in that same spot, day in and day out since 1969. I'm not completely sure of what she was protesting (she had signs protesting US support of Israel, nuclear weapons, W., among others), but her tent was filled to the brim with propaganda.

After that, we made our way to the Vietnam War Memorial, Korean War Memorial, and WWII War Memorial. I loved that all three had their own beautiful styles and unique vibes, yet they were each somber reminders of the men and women lost. The most memorable sight of the entire trip was a middle aged man, possibly a veteran, possibly a friend of a departed soldier, possibly both, sitting on a park bench in front of the Vietnam War Memorial, sobbing. I had the overwhelming urge to hug him.

Here are a few things I loved about DC:

1) The architecture. Each building is different from the last, but just as beautiful. I loved the stone and concrete used instead of the steel and glass of New York skyscrapers. It's so much more inviting.

2) The Southern hospitality. Ok, I know DC can't really be considered the deep south, but it's south of the Mason-Dixon line right? That equals southern to this Jersey Girl. People opened doors, gave REAL smiles, and said hello. Refreshing.

3) The food. I judge everywhere I go by the food. If the food's great, I rave about it for years. If it's mediocre, I'm disappointed. If it's terrible, I vow never to return. We ate at two remarkable places in DC: PJ Clark's, and P.O.V.

PJ Clark's was around the corner from our hotel, so we went there merely out of convenience. It was, however, quite possibly the highlight of our trip. It's black walls and red and white checked tablecloths were casual, yet classy at the same time. The walls were covered in sketches, photographs, and quotations and the staff was friendly. For appetizers, we had deviled eggs (any place with deviled eggs on the menu is fine by me), tuna taquitos, and tater tots. I know these might sound like amateur, even unappetizing dishes, but let me assure you, they were fantastic. Kurt had a NY Strip, aged to perfection, with brussel sprout slaw tossed with bacon. I had lobster mac 'n cheese, which was beyond description. It was beautiful. Perfect. I wanted to swim in it. Our friend, Jeff, had some amazing barbeque. And then came the Key Lime Pie, staple of all southern menus. I ordered ice cream, and ended up eating half of Kurt's Key Lime Pie while the ice cream melted. It was so flavorful. I'm not usually a fan of Key Lime Pie, but this was filled with flavor, light, and refreshing. Plus, it came with a scoop of lime sorbet. I know. Just thinking about it makes my mouth water.

On Saturday, before going to the game, we ate lunch at P.O.V., at the top of the W Hotel. Let's start with the W, shall we? We walked in and I felt like we had been transported to another decade, one with more style and class. I also instantly felt underdressed in my tourist uniform of shorts and t-shirt. Everything was white, black and red and utterly chic. P.O.V. is on the roof of the hotel, covered by an awning, and offers the most beautiful view of the city. The drinks were very expensive, but the food prices weren't terrible. Despite the $15/glass price, I splurged on a Summer Sangria. It was light and refreshing; perfect for a hot day.

We met some friends at the Nationals stadium for the Phils/Nats game. Although, if I hadn't known better, I would have thought we were at Citizen's Bank Park in Philly. At least 80% of the fans were wearing Phillies attire. We were there as Phillies fans, but left our jerseys at home out of respect for the home team. While the Nats were being booed and taunted by the multitude of Phils fans, I felt for them. How terrible must it be not to have a home team advantage, even when you're at home?

The next morning, as Kurt and Jeff waited for our car to be brought around by the valet, I made a Starbucks run. As I approached the door, a homeless man holding an "I'm Hungry" sign called out to me. "I'm hungry ma'am. Can you help?" Having only a $20 in my bag, I smiled an apology and shook my head. "You know, I'd help you if you needed help, you f-ing snob!" Let's just say, I went out of my way to avoid him on my walk back to the hotel. His comment bothered me. I've mentioned my mixed feelings about homelessness in the past. I want to help, but a mixture of uncertainty, and yes, even fear, usually causes me to speed up and/or hide behind other pedestrians. I hate my reaction, but I honestly don't know what to do, so I end up doing nothing. Should I give a dollar? What if they don't spend it on food? Does it matter? Is a granola bar better? Will they yell at me? I'm not proud of it in any way. I choose instead to support food kitchens, but that doesn't really help while I walk past the homeless and hungry on the streets. "I donate to food kitchens! I'm not a snob!" I want to yell.

On that note, we left DC. But the adventure didn't end there. At a gas station in Maryland, my battery died. Why do things like this always happen when you're on the road and not in your own driveway, or say, in the parking lot of an Autozone? A big thank you to Benny from Piscataway who gave us a jump. There's nothing like a little Northern hospitality in the South.

And now my kitten, presumably upset that my computer is getting more attention than he is, is biting my hands. Point taken. Longest post ever. Time to sign off.