Still no calls.

Upon realising that my jeans were in a state that one exuberant leap could render extremely embarrassing, I set off to H&M. Which is shut til noon on Sundays in downtown DC. It being 10.00 I decided to head to the National Gallery for awhile. Which is shut til 11 on Sundays. So I decided to head to the bus terminal. Which is quite a long walk when you go the wrong way. But I managed to secure a bus ticket, and the discovery that you really don't need to buy them in advance for Greyhound. Have then secured new
trousers, I was all set to view some art, and so wandered along to the Gallery of American Art, part of the Smithsonian Galleropolis that threatens to engulf all DC. It has only been open for a little while, sharing a building with the National Portrait Gallery. National Portrait Galleries don't interest me (beyond aforementioned Arkley - Cave pairings): just head after head of supposed magnificence for some reason or other. But the American Art collection is excellent. Very good early 20th C exhibition of American artists who had spent time in Paris, very cool William Berryman show, who in turn had curated a great exhibition of American folk art. Upstairs was one of the coolest installations I've ever seen in a gallery - lots of painting racks behind glass with the collection in 'storage' on display - no real space to view them in and some of them are about a foot off the ground, but at least you get some sense of what the broader collection is like. Labelling is sometimes just the accession number or brief details of artist/title, but there are computers scattered about that you can look up a whole host of other information on. There's two floors of this. Cool.

The part of the gallery described thus far is all up one end, and is all pretty much gallery standard-nineteenth century feel, so there is a total contrast with the other end of the building where the later 20th century and
contemporary art is - where our friends from abstract expressionism and pop art, amongst others, get to dwell. Lots of excited internal giggling and bouncing on my part.

I spent so long in there that I entirely missed the second floor where all the graphic art is, so here's hoping there was nothing crucial there.

After that: Mexican! Australia needs more mexican food, it has to be said. When the man offered me a small or a regular and showed me how long the burritos were, which wasn't especially long, it would have been helpful if he'd mentioned that the burritos are as fat as your arm (assuming you have a large arm). Anyway, I settled down with my log of a burrito and happily watched the passersby. And treated them to the spectacle of me attempting to eat something larger than my face.

The next day was photocopying and then the National Gallery, the latter being much more exciting than the former it has to be said. More excellent Cezannes, Van Goghs, more shocking Renoirs, and lots of Old Stuff That I'm Sure is Good For Me But I Don't Care: There are only so many Dutch still lives and portraits that you can see before you start to toss your head and huff. V. good Rembrandts though.

Then next door for the Modern bit - hurrah! Gorgeous Jackson Pollock, excellent pop! And Dubuffet! And Rothko! (installation not nearly as good for Rothko as at the Tate Modern) Great room of Calders. And Neumann's Stations. (of the Cross that is).

And then I run out of time again. More Mexican. And in another episode of Hostel Avoidance, to the fillums, I saw Stranger than Fiction: has that been released in Oz yet? Go see it. V. good. Quirky plot in the Adaptation sense, but works on brainless amusement level and the 'I can see the undergraduate film/lit theory essays about the narrative voice unfolding before me' level. But in a good way. Emma Thompson. Go, you'll like it.

The next day: photocopying. Mexican. Casino Royale (the opening scenes of which have convinced me that I have developed vertigo. I never used to be particularly bothered by heights, apart from the general concern of preserving self, now I am bothered, strange).

Day after that: Corcoran: smaller than I thought it was going to be. V. good twentieth century collection, awesome painting by someone born in 1976 that I can't remember the name of. Great Morris Louis. V. cool Lichtenstein Apples prints. V. interesting exhibition of how Joan of Arc has been imaged through history.

Left there: rain. Strange rain: looks like a light shower but you take three, maybe four steps, and you're soaked through. Basically solid water, but like floaty mist in texture. Naff-butterfly brolly maintaining a tonsure of dryness atop my skull but the rest of me is damp. I repair to a café and sulk at the rain. A block away from a turkey is being pardoned by el presidente. I head across the street to the Renwick, American craft, beautifully finished pieces, yes Dad I took photos of the woodwork.

The next day: Turkey Day! Thankfully the Smithsonian is open, all of them. I go to the Hirschorn, excellently circular gallery of modern and contemporary art. Contemporary sculpture exhibition, v. good, and then on the top floor is their collection, all our favourites are here, yay! Spend much time gazing and drooling. They are also showing 'The Way things Go' by Fischli and Weiss, the video piece of the chain reaction that I told you about, remember? Quite entertaining to compare the English and American responses to this: English: On Best Gallery Behaviour, dead silent. American: v. entertained, much more interactive, laughing, commenting on what was going on. I think the artists would be a lot happier with the latter. Anyway, I bought the dvd, because I was compelled, and now I have this question: does anyone have a multi-region dvd player?

Then, Turkey feast! Yay! Food was very good, although was fairly surprised when my salmon gravlax entrée came with guacamole and corn chips. Corn chips and salmon go together better than I ever expected. Service was bordering on Fawlty towers: when your second course turns up and you're only halfway through the first it should be fairly obvious that you don't want it yet, but still the waiter asked me. And then his friend asked me, ten minutes later, when he brought it back again, and still I was eating. I'm all for prompt service, but not if it means I need a blender and a funnel to keep up with them.

After that: moofies! Bobby - Emilio Estevez has made a film about the assassination of Bobby Kennedy. I think I like it, but I'm not sure if I would see it again. But Martin Sheen, Sharon Stone, Lindsay Lohan, Estevez, Demi Moore, Anthony Hopkins, Ashton Kutcher... And so on and so forth are all in it.

Oh before I go: one small detail I forgot: is it just me or do you find the concept of a big 'Welcome To the USA' banner at the airport visa check, from the Dept of Homeland Security, slightly disturbing?