Day 342 - October 8th

Day 341 - October 7th

Day 340 - October 6th

I awoke with the annoying sensation of being faintly ill. A sore throat is not a sign of good health. I must have acquired it from all the drunk shout talking. I slept in some then proceeded to drink lots of tea, hoping that would be enough to stifle the bug. After some work on the computer I used the metro to get downtown and begin my life as a tourist. In retrospect however, I should have stayed home and napped. I failed to take in exactly how tired I was and instead proceeded to pace like a frail old man about the Smithsonian's National Air and Space Museum. I tried to devote my attention to the scientific wonders around me, the lunar modules, the Mars rovers, the current knowledge of our solar system's planets but my mind was processing none of it. There were so many words on the posters! The whole affair put me in a bad mood and retreated to the McDonald's to get food.

Models of Opportunity and Curiosity, two of our Mars rovers! 

Normally, I don't jump for McDonald's but a bad mood presents a familiar challenge. Being in one threatens the quality of everything you do and we all have to develop different strategies to circumvent them. Food and rest often help so I sought them out in the cafeteria. I even indulged in an ice cream to sort of coax my better side into the open. After sitting down for an hour, I resumed pacing the hallowed halls of human space artifacts. It really is an amazing thought that we can be so small, trivial even. I remember the first time I discovered for myself the idea that we are small and the humility and empathy that brings. We are deeply flawed, imperfect beings whirling about a universe that engulfs our small dramas in the whirligig drama of all that moves in existence, galaxies and blackholes and stars growing, expanding, colliding. And here we are barely exploring our own backyard with our fragile vehicles and robots. Someday we will expand into space. And maybe our wiser progeny will look back on us and wonder how we ever managed without the gifts and advantages they have. I think I would give a great deal for the privilege of beholding our home in a single glance. Astronauts report "the overview effect," a feeling of immense love for humanity and of understanding where we fit in in the universe just by seeing the Earth from above. It must be what we are after when we travel, that perspective that knits together the disparate and alien lands so different--and yet similar in the most important ways--to home.

Ooooh, Shiny...
One of the original backup Lunar Modules that never had to be used. 

It was the best I could do at the museum in my current state. I decided it was time to return to Shelley's and Steve's. For the first time I realized it takes almost an hour to get back to Silver Springs. In a last ditch gambit to preserve my mood, I stopped at the first Safeway I've been to since California   and picked up kale, oranges, Doritos, hummus, good morale food all of it. In the kitchen, I cooked up the kale with onions and garlic. Shelley tossed in some walnuts and raisins which really upped the quality of my vitamin green feast. It was a pleasant moment talking and being present with Shelley. There are some people who are so smart and knowledgable you learn just by being around them and listening.

Day 339 - October 5th

I'm going to skip straight to the fun part of the day because all I did Sunday morning was sleep, read the New Yorker and pretend to write. It feels good to be lazy for a while but eventually I have to get out and do something. I rode the metro downtown to meet up with Matthew again. He'd just finished studying with a group and we picked up a sixer of Flying Dog-Old Scratch to commemorate our days in Barcelona. We often met up in Plaça del Sol to pick up a six pack of Estrella and drink in the nighttime streets with the locals. In the most important ways it was no different here in America except it was day and we brought our beer to the plaza outside the John Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) where Matthew attends. Enroute we managed to snag Matt's friend Dafé, a Canadian transplant from Montreal who, judging from all the anecdotes I heard, can often be found at the center of their grad school shenanigans. Dafé had been planning to re-enter the library but when he saw us approaching with beer, the perfect study of resignation crossed his features. He knew he wasn't going to get any more work done today.

As we broke into our second bottles, Chelsey walked out of the library, hungover from all the studying for midterms. She joined us and drank half of Matt's second beer. The three of us managed to convince her to abandon her studies and explore Georgetown with us. First we went to Chelsey's brownstone so she could drop off her things. The interior was classical, decorated with paintings and classical music pouring out of a speaker I couldn't locate. Before setting off, we made mimosas of stale champagne and drank them on the back porch. I think 4 people is the right group size for a chemically correct social group. This allows you to pair off in conversation , switching between the main group and the person at your side. Multiple conversations can exist this way in the context of the larger and you pick up the thread of these private duets as you weave along the streets or when you sit together on the bus. We rode the bus to Georgetown and strolled to the Potomac river, our friendship growing with every hour that passed. A bar beckoned to us and we hit the happy hour Margaritas. Our bartender was snarky and hilarious and I struck up a good rapport with her. We got chips and salsa for free and as I chatted more with her and her other bartender friend they learned about the walk. They later sent me a double shot of tequila and lime on the house.

Hunger set in as the drinks elevated us and we set out in search of sustenance. We were tipped off about a half-price pizza special tonight but it turned out to be a false lead. However, the pizza joint did have arcade games. I don't know how it was decided but we wound up playing a Big Game Hunter old-style arcade shooter which had terribad sighting so we always missed the target. We switched over to that one game where you roll the wooden balls up a slope into different holes that vary in value. This turned out to be a huge hit and we played several rounds as we sipped on whiskey-ginger ales. My ability to comprehend Time slipped up and all was liquid so I don't know exactly how long we stayed there but we realized at some point that we were all ravenous. Shake Shack, a local burger joint, was proposed and we stormed the place. I ordered whatever Dafé got and my burger was the most delicious thing in the entire world. Drunk dining is a marvelous state of being. I haven't had such a fun drunk night in a long while. It made me a bit nostalgic for college.

I made it home on the metro easily. I've a fair head for internal navigation these days.

A blurry photo of Dafé and Chelsey at the Shake Shack. Good times.

Us at the pizza place with whiskey ginger ales. 

Day 338 - October 4th

The night of drinking earned me a slow start in the morning. I tottered upstairs from the basement where I have my own room and joined Shelley and Steve. They'd already read 2 of their 3 morning papers and I found the refrigerator stocked with the makings of a small feast in preparation for tonight's dinner party, all before I'd even washed my face. I aim to be as functional as them one day. But for the time being I am 22 and I had had a fair amount to drink last night. We talked about the protests in Hong Kong while I ate breakfeast (they were fasting) before they bustled off to synagogue.

Luxurious mornings are the best times and I was going to revel in this one. No waking up in yesterday's sweat, no packing up, and no journeying except between the refrigerator, my guest bed and the computer. Eventually though I did make afternoon plans so I wasn't a complete bum. The outside world was beginning to change as fall began to settle over the houses, trees, people. The hum and motion of city life didn't bother me as it had last night and I found myself even enjoying it. There is a certain freedom to being able to ignore the people around you--not from malice or negligence but simply because there is a tacit social subtext that reads: We're all just trying to get where we have to go and do what we have to do today.

For myself, I was meeting with Andy, a friend from college. We sang together in our a cappella group Momo and The Coop. He recently moved to D.C. We met at Gallery Place. Andy is all-American, a strong, strong kid with a deep voice, short blond hair and enormous biceps. He has the best boyish grin and the gentlest of countenances. We had lunch together at a Potbelly's then strolled about the National Mall talking of all manner of things and thoughts we've been having, probably my favorite activity with friends. I've missed being around those who know me already and the simple exchange of theories and dreams and ideas drifting between us. The National Mall is not what I expected. For some reason I held the image of gigantic stone slabs instead of the lawns of trim grass that it really is. City people were jogging and napping on grass, pushing strollers, gazing upwards at the Washington Monument and its majestic circle of flags, and walking. The day was blustery enough for flying kites. One man in particular was grappling fiercely with his kite, taking it on a nosedive then swiping it upwards again a foot from the ground, narrowly swerving around disaster.

The pair of us walked West towards the Lincoln Memorial. Two hundred others milled about the steps and feet of Mr. Lincoln's craggy figure and solemn face. As enjoyable as it was to be dwarfed by the great man's image, I liked even more the back of the memorial where it was sunny and quiet. Only a few people trickled back there and, leaning back against the white marble, I better felt the warm circle of friendship I was in. We imagined Lincoln animating at night and coming out here to sigh on the back steps of his temple, annoyed to be entertaining so many gawkers.

When it was time, Andy and I turned our steps back the way we came. I bought a creamsicle and ate it in front of the White House where Mr. Obama and his family live. Everyone is making a fuss about the Secret Service right now but I wonder how much of an overreaction it is. I mean, his motorcade escort can deploy miniguns from the top of the SUV's. I think they're pretty good at their job. Mr. Obama wasn't even home with his security detail when the recent intruder Omar Gonzalez breached the White House.

Andy walked me to the metro and I headed back to Shelley's house for the dinner party. Shelley, Steve and Bubbe got home around 7:30 and Shelley began setting out a traditional Jewish meal to break the fast. New York bagels, salmon, tuna, herring in cream sauce, cream cheese, fruit, mushrooms, cookies and coffee. Guests began arriving and soon the house was buzzing with 10-15 people. Shelley's grandkids were running around. The boys and men kept disappearing into the other room to watch the baseball game then returning to the living room during commericals where the women were socializing and to get more food. The game was actually pretty intense. The home team The Nationals were facing off against the San Francisco Giants. At the last inning the Giants managed to tie up the game and nearly made a second run before the game went into 9 more grueling innings. It felt good to socialize in a group setting again. I went to bed full, warm and happy. 

Day 337 - October 3rd

This morning did not go as planned. Usually, the plan is to pack up my shit and go and to remain dry while doing so. However, I failed to factor in the motives of a nearby creek. Yesterday I maneuvered deftly across a fallen tree spanning the banks of the creek where I found the swankest campsite. Returning to the road in the morning proved slightly more difficult. Because of the way the tree had fallen, the trunk was positioned at an angle. In order to cross back I would have to walk down the sloped trunk with my wet, slippery boots. I was not deterred by this. Instead of seeking an alternative route, I decided to straddle the trunk and inch my way across using my feet to push off from the bank. Upon reaching the middle I began using a helpful smaller log below me for both support and a means to propel me forward. The rotted log disintegrated the instant I settled my weight and, like a pendulum, I tipped over sideways into the waist deep water, backpack and all. Shocked, I hoisted myself from the only deep part of the creek and in the process withdrew approximately 10 gallons of water in my clothes and shoes. There was nothing to do but laugh at my idiocy, especially considering the fact that not 10 feet away was an easy crossing with zero threat of falling in. With no sun there was little hope of drying off. I laid my stuff out on a pathway to assess the damage. My electronics got wet and one video I tried to take of the incident got wiped out but in the end all survived. My sleeping bag took on some water but really my backpack took the brunt of the damage. Pants and shoes: completely soaked. 

Sighing, I changed clothes, packed up as best I could then resumed the walk. I walked in as far as Fairfax then I arranged to get a ride into D.C. proper. It would be good timing for my hosts/relatives Steve and Shelley Heller but also I was ready to get into the city. I've seen plenty of box store malls and endless labyrinthine sidewalks and city roads. I holed up in a Korean bakery until Steve arrived.

Steve is an interesting guy. Originally from the Bronx, he sports the accent and fast pace of the region. He's extremely intelligent and dispenses with day to day activities with deft practice. He seems perpetually under siege as if there is always some fire he has to put out or a mole whose head needs to be whacked. We picked up sushi after fighting through midday traffic and made it to the Heller home in the northern suburbs of D.C. I immediately set about taking care of my gear, drying off my sleeping bag and washing my clothes; there's a whole city to explore.

Shelley got home later and I finally got to hug someone who has been supporting me since I began walking. She's an impressive, extremely high-functioning woman who has donned many roles in her life. She worked for IBM, raised a family of three, and attained her Bachelor's, Master's and PhD in Computer Science. "One degree per decade," she tells me wryly. A raptor-like intelligence moves in her gaze which you sense when speaking with her. I become aware of the 50 year chasm of experience and learning between us. It makes me feel young when I want to be wise. Shelley's mother Bubbe was also there and I fell in love with her immediately. At 98, her mind is still sharp and sparkling with humor. I can see from whom Shelley inherited some of her gifts.

Shelley put together a delicious dinner of chicken, carrots, mushrooms, green beans and bread before they hustled off to the Yom Kippur service, leaving me with a metro card and a house key. I walked to the nearest metro stop, Wheaton on the Red line, and arranged to meet up with Matthew, a friend I made in Barcelona who I haven't seen in 3 years. I descended into the tunnel riding the long escalator down, down, down. Inset lights cast strange shadows of the commuters on the wall as they rode up, up and up all in a line. I swear I heard a drum beat of some kind. I recalled what Shelley said when I'd asked her about D.C, "It's like a company town only in this case the company is the government." I was back in a city. There was even an advertisement inside the train for a depression study.

My apprehension melted when I resurfaced. The area I'd arrived in was beautiful and lit with lanterns. Young professionals bustled about in the cool, calm evening among the shops and bars and I watched them while I waited. Before long. Matthew and his friend Chelsey appeared from the steady stream of strangers and I was no longer alone. Matthew and I became friends in Barcelona, bonding over the fact that we were among the few Americans in our program trying to integrate into Catalan life. He's going to grad school here at SAIS for conflict management and international economics. His friend Chelsey is here on a Fulbright Scholarship. Half-Chinese, born and raised in the Netherlands, and with an English accent, Chelsey's diverse background epitomizes D.C.'s multicultural demographic. I never realized how interesting and fun a city is when its people are of many races and faiths.

The three of us celebrated over drinks at a German bar then moved over to the Mad Hatter. I haven't had much to drink over the many months of travel and so my tolerance is fairly low now. By the time I lurched home I was pretty well drunk. Goooooooooooooood times.

Day 336 - October 2nd