What was D.C. all about?
There's a patriotism in mind for an American interested in traveling to our nation's capital. Being in D.C. means seeing older folk that are retired and have time finally going to the capital for the first time. It's seeing military folk on leave. It's day care and elementary school children crowding the Washington Monument in t-shirts that represent their school. Later they will write an essay in their ELA course about what the monument, what Washington, what the capital meant to them. In a way, this a that kind of essay, brimming with primal sentimentality.
Visiting D.C., or the experience of being in D.C., there's a hope in the U.S. tourist (at least in me) of discovering or reaffirming national identity. A visit to D.C. from a U.S. citizen's point of view is akin to going back home for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. It's a time capsule of what may or may not make one an American, or United Statesian (because South Americans are Americans too).
...
What led me here?
I realized, last year while in Lima, that I traveled to Buenos Aires before I went to D.C. I visited three other nation capitals and yet I had never visited mine. That was the spark.
There was more, however. I think there was a malaise about living in this country that began to settle in me. I was nostalgic for South America. It's not just that. I think a lot of people have malaise about the country. It's easy to have doubts. Everything now--from our media coverage of...everything to the new commercial idea of Black Thursdays--can create a distaste about this country and a doubtfulness as to whether or not it deserves your defense. It's hard to defend a country in a conversation with friends abroad when education budgets are sliced and diced, when apathy becomes a currency of solidarity.
Intellectually I knew I was being immature. Of course there's a greatness to this country. Of course this country is too vast for generalization. Of course if there's something bad we have the worst of it, but if there's something good we have the best of it.
This malaise existed as a visceral feeling, not an intellectual one, and it was a feeling I was having a hard time shaking off. Therefore I felt this trip would not only accomplish a life list item but maybe I could reaffirm my faith that I belonged here.
I don't know why D.C. would be that place, to possibly meet some patriotic quote that I was lacking. After all, D.C. is the hotbed of House of Cards kind of happenings. I figured I might give it a try.
Now, let's get to nuts and bolts.
...
I chose to go on this trip because I started a new job in July and unfortunately I wasn't going to be receiving vacation days for anytime soon. I did notice that we were off for Labor Day and I hatched the idea to go to D.C. on Friday evening and have the weekend to spend there.
My itinerary, which I hashed during spare moments because I love creating itineraries, basically allowed for traversing the National Mall and Arlington National Cemetary, but I also took on a cruise to Mount Vernon and I intended to visit a local D.C. neighborhood. There wasn't a huge interest in visiting all of the Smithsonians, nor was there a possibility. My primary intention was to check out the Library of Congress and the National Air and Space Museum, plus all of the memorials.
I stayed in a hostel once more, Hostelling International. Many would shrug off the idea of a hostel given the length of time I would stay in D.C. Yet the hostel was pretty affordable and it was close to everything.
How did I get around? Walk, mostly. A few of my friends recommended Uber which I downloaded by never used. There's a meaningful purpose to Uber. Sometimes the hip and cool places are in neighborhoods that are sketchy. That's Uber's purpose for me. I never encountered this, so I used public transit and buses. They're inexpensive and I don't personally mind being around people.
Was D.C. dirty? Nah. No worse than San Francisco. D.C. has its neighborhoods but I never went through them. A lot of people were worried that I might get around some bad areas, but D.C. has been heavily gentrified.
I will say that anytime I left early, which I always did, it was like changing of the guard for the prostitutes. Every time I walked to a transit station at 7 in the morning these ladies in cutoff shorts that were clearly prostitutes would be going home. That's an incredible work shift.
...
My first impression of D.C. was flying into Reagan National Airport, which is for national flights only. If you, my reader, ever fly to D.C. from within the U.S. you should find flights to this airport. It's on the banks of the Potomac and as I flew in at night I could look out the window and see the scale of the National Mall, from the Lincoln Memorial through the Washington Monument and Congress, as I descended. This is a sight worth having. Plus, Reagan connects with D.C.'s light rail which Dulles International doesn't.
Now I do not intend to go into detail about everywhere I went. I will only discuss transcendent moments. I will list what I did. If you want to travel with me, this is an impression of what my itinerary looked like ultimately. Brace yourselves:
Day 1--
Tour Congress
Tour Library of Congress
Eat yak, elk, and buffalo burger sliders at the Museum of the American Indian
Walk around Museum of the American Indian
National Air & Space Museum
Washington Monument
World War II Memorial
Vietnam Memorial
Lincoln Memorial
visit the White House
visit the National Archives--see Constitution, Bill of Rights, and the Declaration of Independence
See Perfect Pussy, Joanna Gruesome, and Potty Mouth at the Rock and Roll Hotel
Day 2--
Cruise Potomac
Explore Mount Vernon
Explore Dupont Circle and check out Kramer Books
Rest
Day 3--
Arlington National Cemetery
Go home
As you can imagine, it would require too much of my writing and too much of your time to provide my impressions of each event. Instead I am going to talk about the places that induced a moment of transcendence. The two prominent places that facilitated my moments of clarity were the National Air & Space Museum and the Lincoln Memorial.
A lot of individuals have commented on the National Air & Space Museum as overblown or overrated. This is probably the most popular museum on the National Mall. It's crowded. People are everywhere. For me, however, it serves as a barometer of jadedness because HOW on earth can this places be overblown? How can you think "meh" when right as you enter there's two nuclear missiles, one Soviet and one US? How can you be underwhelmed by NASA rockets, by WW1 and WW2 planes, by the freakin' Wright Flyer? Maybe I am overzealous for aviation (or for everything) but I most certainly was not underwhelmed. I was a little kid again.
This is what the National Air & Space Museum is: it's a museum of dreams. It's a museum of dreams, one that has the artifacts of people's sweat to accomplish their dreams. It's not just a museum of aviation but of what people can accomplish. It's the greatest argument in favor of the dignity of people. It's the greatest argument against apathy and excuses. These people built an object that went to the moon. The moon! How wonderful, how sublime is that?!
Alright, let's tone it down.
Throughout Day 1 I was sweating on my way through the National Mall. I knew I was going to finish exactly where I wanted to, the place I remember seeing at age 4 in my great-grandmother's 1964 World Book Encyclopedia.
It was no longer a black & white photograph. Lincoln means a lot to me. I've studied his speeches, read the works on him by James McPherson.
This was not his tomb or mausoleum but it was important to see him, see his dignity and posture. As overwhelming as he was, there's a comfort his place, looking down, as if he's telling us or me "it's alright."
I was certainly emotional, near tears. Part of that reaction was fulfilling the dream of a 4 year old who read Abe Lincoln's Hat and who was given a biography of Lincoln as a gift for undergoing surgery at age 7. There's an enormous sense of well being to dream of something, to set a goal, and to follow through. I felt that in this moment, reading the Gettysburg Address and the Second Inaugural Address.
There was a new feeling that began to permeate. As I mention, my trip to D.C. stemmed from a malaise with U.S. culture. Yet, I knew from my readings what Lincoln put himself through to continue the struggle in order to preserve this country. I had this feeling that if he was willing to stand up, I should to. This was a patriotic feeling, but not a militaristic feeling. It was the patriotic feeling you might get with your family, where you experience the combination of tumultuous bickering and stout dedication.
The other moments were wonderful. The pure exhaustion and fun of seeing Perfect Pussy & Joanna Gruesome chug it out. The graceful beauty of Mount Vernon. The hip coolness of Dupont Circle. The sacredness of Arlington.
Lincoln Memorial outdid them. Even though it's just a statue of a guy, it's a guy who had doubts, who suffered depression, who had uncertainties, and who plowed through because he saw something important in the soil he stood on. That's not in a military sense, but a spiritual sense, that he belonged on this ground. The Lincoln Memorial out did them all.
Although in terms of my trip that kind of sucks. It kind of sucks that I had a day and a morning left, and I already reached the climax of my trip.
I will say the National Archives were important for me as well. They were doing an exhibit on the civil rights, but there was something breathtaking about seeing the faded ink on the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution. They also had a copy of the Magna Carta. I mean it's hard to elaborate in hyperbole over those. We've all had history class. We know their importance.
...
The idea that the United States is the greatest country in the world is nonsense. We need to purge that idea out of our culture. The United States isn't the greatest country in the world, and I'm not saying that in a Sorkin-esque kind of way because of The Newsroom. Anyone who reads books, anyone who travels abroad knows this fact, that the U.S. isn't the greatest country in the world.
Yet I feel like Lincoln. There's something undefined about here that leads me to believe I belong here. So I think D.C. reaffirmed that I am right. The United States isn't the greatest country, but it's my country. That's an important difference, if I may get political and stand on a soap box. Saying the United States is the greatest country means it doesn't need to change, it doesn't need to progress, that lethargy is acceptable and that's absolute nonsense. There's a reason I believe "This Land is Our Land" should be our national anthem (though I like the "Star Spangled Banner"--I'm not that much of a contrarian). By saying this is my country and our country...it acknowledges that lethargy is unacceptable.
I mean we have to take a stand and step up...
if we want National Cookie Day to be a federal holiday.
No comments:
Post a Comment