Setting Sail 13/08/06

My final full day in DC began at a pleasantly leisurely pace. I sat around the house and chatted with 'Mrs G' while Gareth and his dad went off to church. Towards two in the afternoon G and I left to drive over to Annapolis, a prestigious town north of Washington DC, on the Severn River. Annapolis is also home to the oldest university in the States, built in around 1628. On the way we stopped off at the next best place to a steak-house; Quazno's is a compromise between a sandwich deli and a steak-house, offering sandwiches with various tasty fillings of meat, chicken and cheese. I spent probably at least three minutes in serious thought as to which delicacy to choose, eventually opting for a medium sized honey-roast brisket steak filling with cheese on top. I was, I admit, a little sceptical that American fast food could be as good as the man on the street would have you believe, but this was really very tasty. Of course if I ate that kind of stuff every day of the week I would be in dire need of a severe detox diet, followed by a rigorous work-out routine. It is, I am sure, not very healthy, but that was not my aim at this point. Purely hedonistic debautery was the purpose of this adventure. Would you pass the mayonnaise please?Moving swiftly on before cholesterol could settle and blood clots could develop, we drove off down the freeway towards Annapolis, and the office where we would collect our tickets for this trip. This trip was a cruise on the Woodwind, a twin-mast schooner that sails around Chesapeake Bay, and a truly wonderful gesture by G's parents.We embarked from a quay that was almost swaying under the weight of tourists, diners and crew from various boats, and around us were moored the most extravagant motor-cruisers you could imagine, with heli-pads and plush bars, tinted windows and expansive deck areas. Little motor boats forged their way through the water in the wakes of powerful ships, and one little open topped speed boat rumbled past with three 250 hp outboard engines hooked on the stern.The schooner was a much more refined vessel. We cruised under engine to the edge of the marina and then several volunteers lent their weight to the sails which soon filled out in the breeze. The pleasure of sailing is that with apparently minimum disturbance you can travel quite fast, and so calmly it is amazing. The only noise is the lapping of the ocean around the bow as the hull cuts through the water. The occasional flap of a sail warns that some minor adjustment is needed, and with a few pulls on a rope or spins of the wheel the ship is gaining knots and speeding gracefully along its course. It is hard to imagine if you have not tried it, but it really is a pleasure to experience.We sped between smaller yachts, motorboats and cruisers, and the occasional jet-ski, and every so often changed tack to keep the wind in the sails while maintaining course. A heavier breath of wind would set the boat on list, catching the unwary tourist off-guard, and sending unsecured bags sliding over the planks to the lower side of the deck. Anticipating the movements of the boat and standing without hand-holds is a satisfying challenge, although standing too near the rails can be risky. Our crew were experienced guides and between them kept up an interesting talk on the geographical nature of the surroundings- a natural basin which had filled with water after the last glaciers had melted, with an average depth of only 17 feet in the middle- and a little about the shipping- including the white granite used to build the Washington Monument, and how generally ships travelling east had a shallower draught because they had unloaded upstream- and when we arrived back towards the marina after sailing around a large loop in the bay they described the US Naval Academy and the torpedo, wooden mast and crow's nest displayed on the quayside of the Academy, and the tall radio masts standing on the opposite bank of the Severn River in the US Naval Warfare Centre.
After we disembarked we wandered at a brisk pace back to the car before the threat of wheel clamping was carried out. I paused to photograph a cobalt blue Corvette Stingray purring its way up the street, much to my pleasure. I also tried to photograph a taxi driver who was dozing against the window of his car. He looked just the way I imagine an average Cuban taxi driver to look, with a garish flowery shirt favoured by loud tourists, and a straw hat over his dark-skinned face and arms. He was leaning against the side of his car with the hat tipped down onto his nose, but as I was about to take the shot he peered out from under his hat as if I had called his name. Sadly the photo remains purely hypothetical.
After eventually navigating our way out of the town of Annapolis onto route 42 south, and continuing for a couple of dozen miles on a variety of roads, we arrived at a modest bar-like building in a rural area somewhere outside DC. Built apparently from wood, there were few external clues as to its role. Inside more dark wood, some heavy bar stools, and a few foreign beers on the drinks list. Further scrutiny of the menu will yield the true nature of this restaurant, with bratfurst, nockfurst, wiener schnitsell and other such German food, and just the sight of the menu is mouth-watering. One should never rush decisions about food, and I rarely contradict this policy, so at least one large tankard of good beer was drunk in contemplation of which dish would provide most satisfaction. I eventually decided to go for a combination of nockfurst and bratfurst, with garlic-mashed potato and German quantities of mustard. This was a thoroughly satisfying dish and provided a great opportunity for some very relaxed conversation and an evaluation of all I had experienced in the last few days. I seem to remember several more tankards of beer being consumed, and a waiter recounting a story about how he was lent an apartment in Monaco by one of the Carnegie family, and then talking of a plan to establish a jazz club in New Zealand with a particular German friend, Jens, who may be surprised to hear this, I’m really not sure how much he knows….. It was a really great evening, curiously multi-cultural, as so often is the case- and provided a fantastic back-drop to my departure for the Caribbean. The following morning at about seven o’clock I was in the check-in queue at Dulles airport waiting for my flight to Puerta Rico, and subsequently on to St. Kitts and Nevis, so it is time to conclude the chapter on DC.
My brief but highly rewarding stay in DC was really amazing, compounding or dispelling expectations and stereotypes, and served as a brilliant introduction to American life and culture. I will never be able to thank my hosts enough for their kindness and generosity, which made my sejour possible. For the record, to Blake, Dian and Gareth, a huge ‘thank you’. I hope some-day I will have the opportunity to return the gesture.

Foggy Bottom 12/08/06

It was a hot day, even by American standards, probably about 26 centigrade and humid. The air seemed to hang like a duvet, almost stifling. It had been decided to play tennis today, and we drove back over to Maryland University to use their courts as there would certainly be at least one free. Interestingly the only two racquets we had were of a rather antique vintage, made of wood and most probably cat-gut strings. They were in good condition though, and after a few minutes of adjusting to the smaller size it was possible to play a competitive game. It was tough playing in that heat, and after nearly two hours we sloped off the courts in need of some serious refreshment.
Fortunately America's fast food culture extends to light but very refreshing snacks of all different kinds. We visited a smoothie joint, which was almost one big advertising wall. It was also suprisingly health conscious, and very much geared to sports drinks. All sorts of energy drinks, cleansing drinks, toning drinks, refreshing drinks, and vitamin-boosting drinks were on offer, and after much consideration I ordered a blueberry dream. It would be true to say that it surpassed my expectation and was, after half an hour of sucking it though two straws, very refreshing. About half the drink was ice, crushed and smashed in a blender, so I guess it was also kind of hydrating. It certainly tasted goooood.
I spent a good few hours after this chilling out with a few beers. I can say, after a good deal of experience, that beer never tastes better than after a bit of serious exertion. Bud light was no less so.
Later that afternoon we went back into DC to meet up with some friends from my home University. We had all met during one particular year in Sheffield and stayed in touch to some degree. We met this time in a tappas restaurant just a few blocks across from the Hotel Washington and we ate quite a range of different dishes, from shark to cheese on toast, and squid cooked in its ink to spanish sausages and garlic mashed potato. With a few pints of beer it was very pleasant, and a good opportunity to catch up on people's situations.
Afterwards we walked down across the mall just in front of the Whitehouse, towards Foggy Bottom, although nobody was really sure of the way. We zig-zagged between the Corcoran Gallery and the Executive Office building and back down towards George Washington University and 23rd Street. Foggy Bottom is around the Georgetown area of DC, and is quite a rich area. Many financiers and bankers and similar people go to drink here amongst their own crowd of people- which is a little exclusive. Although in pleasant company it was not really my scene and being a little tired from the short week's events I bid farewell to my friends and made for a metro station.
Later that evening we dropped into a bar just along from Bently's Bar over by Maryland University. The whole area was very much geared up to Friday night, and bouncers stood around outside the bars checking I.D.s and taking entrance fees. It was different to many English bars in that some people just sat around and drank, but there was an area at the end of the bar for dancing and more lively entertainment, helped by a dj mixing on his decks in the middle of the room. At the bar a guy standing next to me was somewhat plastered, and fired venemous complaints at the bar staff about not being served immediately. He was, after a brief attempt to reason with him, ejected unceremoniously by a bouncer who clearly had the advantage over him by virtue of his incredibly large girth. Although I missed the precise incident I imagined the bouncer simply pinched the guys collar between his finger and thumb and tossed him out onto the street. Job done. No messing about. Next orders please.

Cheverly 11/08/06

Cheverly MD is a leafy suburb of Washington DC, and is something of a pool of tranquility away from the freeway and hubub of the busier areas. It is an area of gently rolling hills which gives it a slightly quaint feel- maybe because it breaks up the usual huge expanses of tarmac and building that characterise alot of DC. There are a couple of churches, a playing field with nets for baseball and soccer, and a little barbeque area in amongst some trees. The houses are similar, but there is plenty of variety. A typical house is built partly of red brick and wooden weatherboards, which gives it a fairly un-English feel. It is also common for houses to have a broad porch area around their front doors with a plant or two to add colour and interest. Letter boxes line the streets and some of them have little American flags that pop up when the mail is delivered. A few houses have a larger flagpole with a scaled-up version of this symbol of patriotism.
The yard behind Gareth's house encompassed a couple of trees: one evergreen spruce with delicate thin green needles which sway gently in the breeze; and another with purple flowers which had grown a little beyond its intended size but was now to big to move. Both trees gave shelter and shade to numerous little birds which darted out from the cover to peck at one of several bird feeders around the garden, before a larger rock dove or pigeon swooped in to satisfy its own appetite. The squirrels were the most ambitious and acrobatic of all the creatures. Although the feeders had been designed to stop them getting at the food they could usually find a way around. Sometimes they would cling to the thin twine and descend precariously from a brance high above, and at other times they would leap from the trunk of a tree and try to land on the top of the feeder which would swing wildly with the force of the impact. Having reached the mesh-covered container they would hang by their back legs from the top and dangle languidly as they picked out any peanuts that were within reach. Having either eaten their fill or tired from the exertion they then just dropped off the feeder, and after landing nimbly on the lawn they scampered off into some other part of the garden.
I wanted to see some of the local area today, as I had seen some of the centre but little of everything else, so we drove around to see Maryland University, and all that entailed. It was a large campus, and all the buildings were very similar in being new, and made of red brick with white collumns outside the entrance halls. There was plenty of shade thanks to many large pine trees which also contrasted pleasantly with the white and red of the buildings.
The most impressive buildings were the gym and sports hall, which was simply huge (and apparently very popular) and the music department which, having clearly been purpose-built, was very impressive. The building itself was large and contained many practice rooms and rehearsal studios, and in the centre was a large concert hall with a ceiling designed to preserve a high level of accustic quality. It really was amazing, and no-doubt contributed to the high quality of the department.
There was also a full-size football stadium with a capacity of about fourty thousand. It dwarfed the pitch and clearly showed the significance and prestige of American football in the Varsity league. The stadium was apparently on a par with many smaller club stadia back in England, in terms of capacity, and much better in terms of the pitch.
Most of the rest of the day was spent buying food and drink for a bbq, and my long awaited opportunity to sample the great American hot-dog. The ritual, as I think it is fair to describe the preparation of such a bbq, is strict. Everything from the specific brand of 'dog' to the specific mustard, chilli, sauce, ketchup, and so on, is carefully monitored, and individual tastes are fiercely defended. This being my first time for a 'real' hot-dog, I was recommended two different types of sausage. Much pleased by the legitimate excuse to indulge myself I tucked in to platefulls of salad, honey-marinaded beans, potatoes, pasta salad, devilled eggs, and of course some all-American 'dogs'. Now, the presentation of an American hot-dog is by no means simple. Of course you take your roll and sausage, but then you add several spoonfulls of chilli, any number of different sauces, mayonnaise, ketchup, and mustard. The combined effect of all this can only be described as superb. It is very tasty indeed, believe you me. I am fully prepared to admit that they surpassed my expectations, which were not low in the first place. It may be the reason for so much obesity in the USA, because so much of the food available is very, very tasty, and really not neccessarily expensive. At least there are many healthier alternatives to McDonalds.....
Later that evening we drove over to a water-side suburb of DC to visit G's girlfriend Lauren and friend of hers, Anthony who just finished an internship with a business in DC. The area was a popular and expensive one, with many good restaurants and bars, and also lots of shops open late and glistening with shiney jewelry and little window lights. A few groups of bikers with gleaming silver and black leather bikes were parked up outide several bars, and there were occasional shouts as a rider warned off a car reversing too close for comfort.
There were also several little boutiques and ice cream parlours, much to the pleasure of many tourists in need of cooling refreshments after hours of striding around the back streets and parks of DC. I found the lemon sorbet most gratifying.
There was, however, a downside to this relaxed, friendly, and otherwise inviting little place. Apparently extending throughout the States, there is a policy of checking I.D. before any sale of alcohol is made in a bar or restaurant. Although I think it is safe to say I appear at least a little older that an average 21 year-old American guy, I was nevertheless called upon to produce some form of Government issued I.D. Much to my horror the bar girl was quite intransigent, and despite my most imploring appeal to her better judgement I was flatly refused a drink. The word is that anyone who appears less than about thirty years old will be automatically I.D'd. Freedom and responsibility. Forget passport to the sun; passport to a pint was far more to the point.
Abandoning the bars in that area (as many surrounding bars had seen us leave and no-doubt operated the same policy) we strolled around to the quayside to be met by a small number of people gathered around a character perched on a little stool and playing lively music on a guitar and a little drum. Around him were several pavement artists sketching characatures and charcoal images of beaming volunteers and boats and the moon over the water. From behind us a tall lean man in jeans and wearing braided hair cautiously introduced himself as Charles, and earnestly explained that he was collecting for impoverished children in Africa. He proceeded to perform a rap about people not taking the problem of poverty seriously, and how everyone should spare some change that they no-doubt posessed, and all embellished with his imagination. It was half convincing, and he was rewarded with some coins from amongst us. Interestingly, I would soon meet a second doubtful individual with another half-convincing story about helping poor children, but more on that later.
After wandering idly for a while in a park, and narrowly avoiding several sprinklers that appeared out of the lawn, we set course for Laurens place and a bottle of beer on the decking in her garden. It was a distinct contrast with the hustle and bustle and ambience of the cosmopolitan street life that we had recently left, but was nevertheless pleasant.
On the route back to Cheverly we passed the Pentagon which seemed large even in the American sense. In my rather drowsy state I missed the short opportunity for a photograph, but the highway was not the best vantage point anyway. One excuse to return........
The top of the Washington Monument was also clearly picked out in bright lights against the darkness that enveloped the city, but the shutter speed was down to about two seconds and we had passed rather alot in that time. I have no idea how the photo will look. Soon enough I will find out, but before that there are two more days to write up.