A Brief Tour of DC 10/08/06

Good morning, thank you for listening. I would like to begin with this concise account of my first visit to the capital, the Capitol and various other landmarks around DC.
The Orange line of the Metro extends through the city from east to west, and outside of rush-hours is a good and cheap way to travel. Twenty minutes was enough to take us from Cheverly to the Archives stop on the line, just a block down from the Supreme Court. The rows of escalators were almost empty of passengers, and even the street above was almost eerily quiet. I should point out that this was the day on the morning of which, back in England, the attempted attack on ten US-bound airlines had been foiled, and security around the centre of DC was tighter than usual. Nevertheless we were able to see around the Court, although access to the main chamber was denied to all. White marble and simple but decorative lighting created a pleasant if not glamorous feeling inside the building.
Next on the list, the Library of Congress. Visitors had previously been allowed to enter the main library area, but alas no longer. Access was granted only to members, and on payment of the associated fee. The library apparently houses all publications in or out of print in the US. The ceiling was decorated with Roman- style frescos, and depictions of angels and gods. Flashes of cameras were reflected off shiney marble pillars and floors. Having seen all I wanted, we left via the security point where my small rucksack was searched. Nothing extraordinary was found.......
The Capitol building was visible over the road, although partially obscured by a six foot fence. The regeneration of the grounds of this building were still in a messy stage, and it was far from photogenic. In fact, all of the first three buildings I saw were in some stage of repair or development, which made the task of taking pleasing photos a little harder.
We walked around to the other side of the Capitol to see the curving stone staircases and beds of bright flowers. On the steps stood armed guards, clearly reinforcing the message of the signs that read simply 'No Entry'. This was reminiscent of a sign I had seen on a road before, which served apparently as a 'No Entry' sign, although this one read 'Wrong Way'. There is great view from the Capitol down the mall to the Jefferson Memorial, but there was something more immediate that cought my attention. Behind the Reflecting Pool, which is designed to reflect the image of the Capitol to people standing on the far side, there is a street that runs across the park from one side to the other. This street had been marked out with small orange cones, and between these cones, down the whole length of the street, were riding about fifteen policemen on Harley Davidson bikes. The sound was extraordinary, not to mention the view. Nobody I spoke to had heard or seen of anything like this. It was in fact drizling a little, and with an uncomfortable screech one rider tipped his bike too far and pivoted the front wheel off the road, leading to his rapid and rather undignified dismount. It was, on the whole, an amazing display of the riders' ability, and they drove briskly through the course at a pace most people would struggle with on a pedal bike. The inevitable competitive streak made for quite an entertaining show as they shouted and rebuked each other for hitting cones or going too slowly. One particularly large rider presented an even more incongruous sight, making his steed look more like something from the toy department of Woolworths.
The Washington Monument was next in line to see, and was worth seeing close up just for the impression of size which I had not appreciated from pictures of it. The base of the monument measured about about ten yards across, and was built, as the rest of it, from white granite shipped in from further north and down through Chesapeake Bay. At least, that was the word from the sailor on the boat, but that comes later.
The ubiquity of the American flag becomes clear as one walks around the central area of DC, or indeed anywhere near DC...... Presumably it is to cater for the lost and confused tourist who has ceased to comprehend exactly which country they are in, and must be constantly reminded of their location by flying millions of flags over the city. It seems the Americans, or at least a significant number of them, are ostentatiously adoring of their home-land.
The Lincoln and the JFK Memorials skirt the far edge of the central mall, on the other side of the tidal basin. In late Spring this basin is a wonderful sight, surrounded with flowering cherry trees in white and pink blossom. I was treated to a more conservative scene, but a not unattractive one. The novelty of the location had apparently long since been lost on the park rangers who, positioned around the more popular areas, were often chatting wearily on their cell phones or engrossed in conversation with some locals- either much further away in mind than in body. In a moment of abstract thought it occured to me that it would be far from difficult to pinch one of the pedalos from the basin, just around the corner from the hire-office, where the road curves in closer to the water and nobody is focussed on anything much further than the brim of their hat. Much as wild animals slow down in the heat, it seems humans behave similarly, caring and noticing less about their surroundings. This was, however, idle speculation. Once again, 'nothing to declare'.
The next noteworthy point was a brief stop at the Whitehouse. As the road past is closed to traffic pedestrians can congregate around the area at the bottom of the garden and peruse the rather anticlimactic view that meets the eye. Nowhere near as dramatic when it is in context- ie. not filling the whole of your TV screen with an excited journalist earnestly explaining something of exaggerated importance in the foreground- it had for me more the impression of a rather impressive garden shed. The lower bay windows were covered with sheets, and little activity was visible through windows that weren't covered. It is broadly considered that the house extends well beyind the visible boundaries, either back towards Lafayette Square, or down into the ground below. Nothing seemed to be happening at that moment to justify its existence. Further more, there was alot of activity that seemed a little extraordinary, not least the snipers in the roof who stroll around and occasionally peer through their scopes at the small crowd of enthralled visitors below. Later I photographed these guys reclining in sun-lounger type chairs while I sipped a grand margherita on the balcony of the Hotel Washington, much to my amusement. When I have the pictures developed I will send them to the Whitehouse with some amusing caption....... These pictures, along with the others I have collected, will be browsable here in a short while.
I then went on to see the Post Office building, which is just around the corner, or block, from the Whitehouse. Its basement houses numerous small fast-food counters which right at that moment were a very welcome service. There is a whole range of food on offer, from Greek to Indian to Chinese and American. At the end is a little souvenir shop selling pictures of G. W. shaking hands with a jubilant nobody. A curious stall at the other end of the hall is the home of a range of shady operators, all of who greet visitors with the hail 'want a free demo?', while swiftly re-aligning a camera so that the image of the unsuspecting tourist is displayed on a TV screen. With a few deft flourishes the operator has conjoured up an image of the gaumless tourist greeting G. W., or on the fairway with G. W., or some other equally preposterous situation. I avoided it altogether. Sadly I couldn't avoid seeing a little window display of a small plastic-looking model of G. W. between two similar models of Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI. I tried to sequester this image from my mind as I tucked into a very tasty gyros with fries and ketchup. Well, maybe America isn't all bad.
After seeing a few other more mundane but photogenic sights G and I re-boarded the metro and headed back out to Cheverly, MD, and later downed a few more pints at the splendid Bentleys Bar. I have a feeling nachos and salsa were the side order of choice this time, and they were as good as they were described- if not better. I crashed a little early as exertion and time differences caught up with me, and thus the tale will take an intermission at this point. Do join me again after the break............

The American Experience 9/08/06

I have turned red. Or at least parts of me have. I was a little remiss yesterday on the beach outside the Double Deuce and the sun took its usual course. It may have been the Double Deuce Stinger that impaired my judgement, but I guess it was at least partly my inexperience with subtropical sunshine factors.
But let me fill you in a little on my recent travels.
I left London Heathrow the morning before the fortunate uncovering of the vicious plot to deprive yet more innocent civilians of their lives. I have to tell you, it was a very different feeling, knowing that YOU could have been one of the affected. It is, I think, something akin to the feeling of powerlessness. But I don't want to philosophise too much. I continued on my route to Washington DC, upgraded to Business class because of over-booking of the flight. Consequently my seat took up about three times the usual space, and everything was fully adjustable at the touch of a button. One could, if one wished, convert the whole thing into a bed.... Between numerous re-fills of wine, orange juice, snacks, a three course dinner, more drinks, and a film and afternoon tea, I chatted with my immediate neighbour- a lecturer in Business and Economics at George Washington University, Washington DC, and a previous head of the World Bank in Nepal. A truly interesting man, he had met heads of State and Premiers, Prime Ministers and Business-men all over the world, and had a great insight into their motivation for and commitment to change, especially in developing countries. It was a most interesting episode.
The flight being otherwise unremarkable, we arrived in DC at 13.30 local time. It was hot, but not particularly, only 26 centigrade- I had apparently missed a much hotter period. It was, nevertheless, something like walking into a sauna after the dreary weather in England. The big difference was that I had absolutely no control over the temperature.
My good friend Gareth picked me up at the airport and we took a semi-tourist route through the western and central periphery of the centre of DC before arriving at Franklins Bar, in an apparently Spanish area of the city. Being curious about American bars, and less curious about their beer, I began with a pint of IPA, or Pale Ale as they know it. The concept of a pint was not completely alien to them. The bar brewed its own beer as well, and I sampled a home brew for seconds, which turned out to be more hoppy and a heavier drink altogether, and not in the slightest bit warm. I was pleased to find that the better aspects of local brewing had filtered through to this part of the world.
The next stop was a bar more local to Gareth's area, or hood if you will, named Bentley's Bar. My appreciation grew and grew as the pump marked Pale Ale loomed into view. Bar snacks are apparently a much more serious industry over here, and the menu listed such delicacies as Mozarella sticks with sauce, Nachos with salsa, onion rings with some accompanying dipping sauce, and many other very welcome refreshments. The Mozarella sticks turned out to be as tasty as they were described- possibly more so. The decor was largely of automotive nature, the walls being adorned with tens of dozens of number plates of vehicles from all over the States. A couple of TVs showed football (purely American) and Formula One racing. There was a covered, semi-open area along the length of the building which opened onto the street, for those who were more inclined to watch the passers-by. My panama hat illicited several inquiries as to my origin, but I got the impression that England had about the same meaning to my inquirers as America had had for me before this; that is to say little. Then again, afternoon drinking does induce a similar feeling of relaxed nonchalance.
We left several pints happier and drove on to G's house in Cheverly, passing numerous references to Chevy Chase along the way, along with fast food stops, pizza shops and a realtor. It was at around this time that the thought occured to me that American drivers are, on the whole and with exceptions, fairly blaze (with accute accent) about driving. Any reasonably large car or truck (which description fits the majority of US vehicles) will potentially veer across the road at the peril of anyone in its path. Alternatively, it may decide to simply sit at an intersection awaiting a break in the traffic large enough to accommodate a couple of buses. They also have a habit of signalling manoevers as affirmation of what has already been done, and thus anticipation of traffic behavior is somewhat difficult. On a smaller scale, t-junctions and crossroads without lights are interesting as the law demands that everyone stops, and the decision as to who pulls away first is pretty much down to the boldest driver. This invariably leads to numerous cautious stop-starts as each driver edges his or her way towards the other side of the junction, trying to guess how long the opposing driver's determination will hold. Somehow it works........
Dinner was a pleasant affair of bbq'd chicken wings and rice with vegetables. My day of eighteen or so hours, after a night of drinking copious amounts of cider, began to take its toll, and I gave up in favour of sleep at about 2300 US time. Fans and light sheets were very much appreciated in easing the heat and humidity, although a couple of mosquitos somehow evaded every attempt to prevent their entry, and subsequently had a profitable night devouring my feet. I could scarcely imagine how this would become something of a routine in the near future......