and so to DC

Arrived in DC late afternoon, with a startling lack of information. Normally I tend to over-research where I am going and how to get there, but with the flurry of activity before I left the UK I didn't really get my head into gear for my arrival in the US of A. I made my way into the centre of downtown DC, where they have thoughtfully provided people to give you advice on where you are and how to get to where you are going. Unfortunately, the guy who approached me to offer assistance, on looking at the address of where I was going, offered advice which amounted to 'that's far'. Riiiiight. And proceeded in a way that had me wondering if I would need a visa to commute between DC and Canada. So I left him in the wake of my suitcases, and trundled off to find a cab. I found one, he found where I was going, all was good.

Except that the neighbourhood the Hostel is in did not match the description that I had read on the Lonely Planet webverse - which, summarised, was 'a bit of a distance from the centre of town, a bit crap, but surrounded by a really cool 'hood' - this place was 'quite a distance from the centre of town, really quite crap, and not at all in a cool hood'. Turns out that the place they were describing was the original version of this hostel, which burnt down. The thing is though, their review acknowledges the fact that it had burnt down, and writes about it as thought it has been rebuilt, which, clearly, it hasn't, it has moved. Somewhere crap. Anyway. Most of the week I had the room to myself, which is a kind of hostel-dwellers bliss. Unfortunately the previous inhabitant had obviously only stopped by to conduct her seasonal moulting in private, and, after leaving vast swathes of hair, had continued on her way. I thought that was the worst of it, and then I saw the mouse in the kitchen. Joy! [The obvious question is why I stayed, and the reason for that is, beyond my extreme reluctance to have to trundle anywhere with my suitcases more than I have to, is that I had, of course, left it to the last minute to book accom in DC, and the next price bracket up from 'previoustenantsmoultings&rodents' is upwards of 100, so, la crappeee it had to be.]

Heading downtown the next morning I found that DC on the weekend is oddly like Canberra - all the public servants flee and leave a deserted city behind them. Except this city is a lot bigger and a lot more attractive. And a lot easier to get round, as, wait for it, rather than some pseudo-scenic curved road scenario that can have you trapped in our Nation's Finest for years at a time, the Wastingtonians thoughtfully numbered all the north-south streets and lettered the east-west ones, so within a few minutes you've pretty much figured out where you are, where you need to be, and roughly how far that is. Might not have the undoubted poetic bliss of a William Slim Drive, but damn it's useful.

After pondering that delightful aspect of urban design, I headed down to the Mall to wander along to the Capitol, all the way waiting for calls from CJ, Josh, Sam and co. Surely they would realise I was in town soon.... ? Enjoyed that deeply surreal experience of seeing vistas open before me that are almost too iconic to be experienced:


Still no calls.

Discovering that it is only the early bird that gets the ticket to the tour of Capitol, I proceeded on my way, and took myself on a wander around the Library Of Congress: the library responsible for the classification system it took me most of my undergraduate degree to reliably use, and still, on a occasion, gives me reason to pause and earnestly recite the alphabet to myself, before uttering a curse and backtracking, realising that I'm three aisles from where I'm supposed to be. Anyway. Very elaborate decoration, incredibly so when you compare it to any equivalent establishment en Australie, and some excellent exhibitions, nicely encapsulating the development of America and of the library's collection.

Then I went shopping: the Eastern Market. Should you find yourself there, go in the main doors, turn right, go to the far corner, and order the crab cake sandwich. Just a tip. You won't regret it. I followed the recommendation, despite the fact that I don't particularly like crab. Now I do. Nice markets, my christmas shopping has officially commenced, for those who may have been wondering. And indeed, for those who weren't, because you know now, and there's nothing you can do to change that. C'est la vie.

Onto the metro, back to Federal Square. La Maison Blanche! Very, very peculiar to see it in the stucco. Still, they did not call. Alongside me were many many Americans, as one would expect. They take a lot more interest in their history than Australians do, and as much as American patriotism can have some unfortunate consequences for their foreign policy, in the interest they take in their history and their ability to articulate the nation's values, democracy, freedom and such, I really admire it. And quite entertaining when American Dad turns to entire family and begins lecture on the form of government that is bicameral legislature and is cut off by swooning-bored son with 'not another lecture' to the amusement of many.

Washington Monument, avec Water Fountains

Then, to the Lincoln Memorial, via the Vietnam Memorial - the best War Memorial that I've ever seen, I found the simplicity of it far more moving than the Georgian Wedding Cake style that features on so many others.

Pool and Abe Memorial

Abe

Pool and Monument

Then to the movies, where, for being good feet, I took Judas and Thomas to see 'Happy Feet' in the hope that it would inspire them.


Still they did not call. Can the cast of The West Wing really be fictional?