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Posts Tagged ‘washington dc’

I miss Chicago. Waah. It’s all I talk about. Waah. Sympathize with me, especially considering that before I moved I just wanted to leave because it’s too cold. POOR ME.

THE FOLLOWING THINGS MAKE ME HOMESICK:

He is even sitting on a DECK that might collapse any minute... but I forgive you, "Gotham."

I swear to Jesus Christ's Holy Colon, no one here can cook anything that isn't some thai fusion shit. Maybe I'm exaggerating. But I want some greasy lamb that was prepared by a greasy dude who has been working in the same greasy 3am joint since he hopped off the goddamned boat.

The dicks who move here for a summer to intern for the government and who ride the Metro (but stand in the door and don't move for people to get on and off) and who talk very loudly about how important their fathers are and who yell on my sidewalk at 3am make me want to puke orange soda in public. In Chicago there are dicks, but at least they're not dicks who will threaten to have you deported.

No shit.

Things that don’t make me homesick:

  • Work
  • Public Transit
  • Abraham Lincoln
  • The entire month of February
  • Middlechild
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One of my favorite things about DC is the architecture. If you just ignore the bureaucracy-made-manifest late 20th century federal office buildings it’s like they’re not even there. On previous trips to the Mall, I had noticed the Old Post Office on Pennsylvania. Apparently it became obsolete almost immediately after it was built in the late 19th century and faced the threat of demolition for 75 years before it was restored and reopened in 1983.

Yesterday on our way to inadvertently getting trapped on the Mall by Rolling Thunder, Mr. MiddleChild observed, “There are people up there.” So there were.

We took the elevator to the top of the bell tower (Free! Another great thing about DC) and were treated to a pretty spectacular 360 view of the District.

The Raspberry takes a decent shot.

It was really fun to pick out all the landmarks – monuments, museums, the Capitol, the White House, the airport, the Cathedral, Catholic University, the World Bank – all visible from just 270 feet up. The tower had helpful pictures identifying significant buildings (which is how we found the World Bank) and was not nearly as busy as most tourist spots, especially for a holiday weekend. I’ll definitely be going back.

A couple more cell phone shots after the jump.

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One of my favorite things about living in a tourist town is acting like a tourist; one of my favorite things about living in our Nation’s Capital is that it is so small one can walk virtually everywhere (except NE of the Capitol… do not walk there. Or toward SE… do not walk there, either.)

On our first date, Mr. MiddleChild and I attempted to wear each other out by walking from Chinatown to the Tidal Basin, up and down the Mall and back to Chinatown. This worked so well that we had to seek refreshment. What better way to toast the first few successful hours than with a core-temperature-cooling frozen treat?

The object(s) of my affection.

This is how we became enamored with the Patriot Pop, a tri-color popsicle available from only the finest vendors on the Mall. The white bit is my favorite – it’s lemonade flavored! On future dates/adventures/walks during which the goal seems to be for one of us to reach meltdown (hint: it’s me), the Patriot Pop became a tradition. Something we both looked forward to. Something delicious and unique. A special treat.

Last weekend we decided to walk from my neighborhood to Eastern Market. This despite that one of us (again, me) had gone on a 25 mile bike ride earlier that morning (did I mention I’m training for triathlons?). I think you can guess where this is going.

By the time we got to the Mall, we were both in dire need of a Patriot Pop, but we weren’t on the part of the Mall where we’ve found them in the past. We both spotted what looked like an ice cream van and made a beeline into traffic, visions of refreshment making us mildly delirious. These popsicles looked a little different and cost more, which should have been the first sign that something was amiss.

imposter

The Impostor.

We opened the wrappers and were immediately suspicious. This popsicle was longer and more slender than what we were used to – to be blunt, it looked like a really big penis (shoutout Washington Monument!). I was seriously embarrassed to put my mouth on it in public. Fortunately I didn’t have to worry about this for long since it immediately started to melt at an unmanageable rate.

“This tastes like Windex!” Mr. MiddleChild commented; I thought he was being a little dramatic, but then it dripped on my skirt and I got mad. The real Patriot Pop would never do that. We both learned an important lesson that day: do not buy $3 giant frozen phallices from a man in a large white van – it just doesn’t taste the same as the real thing.

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Check out Arjewtino‘s (h/t DCist) photos of tourists taking photos of the cherry blossoms.

The National Cherry Blossom Festival runs through April 13. I’ve only been down to the tidal basin during peak bloom once – on a foggy Tuesday morning last week during the group run. It was pretty serene thanks to the overcast weather and the mist in the air. Still, there were people setting up chairs and tripods at 6:30 am. However, based on my experience on the mall during the Kite Festival a couple of weeks ago (I did not know there were so many families with small children in America), I would not brave the daytime crowds.

Living in a tourist town is a new experience – my favorite game is “spot the Midwesterner” (hint: haircut can be the determining factor). I’ll try to refrain from the usual “those stupid tourists do not know how to stand on the right side of the escalator” complaints (though my short patience fuse does get even shorter when someone stands in between me and a race to the bottom of the escalator) and instead say that I love – LOVE! – it when tourists ask me for directions. Especially when someone asks me where the Metro is while standing within sight of both sides of a station entrance. Sure, they might travel in slow packs that take up the entire sidewalk, huddle together on Metro looking mildly frightened with their wallets strapped safely to their chests and generally have way too much respect for traffic laws, but when someone asks me how to get to X and I can tell them, I get the warm feeling of helping others and validation that walking around with a permascowl does in fact make me look like a local.

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