Washington DC - And we marvelled at some Vague and Mysterious emotion

Washington DC

And we marvelled at some Vague and Mysterious emotion

Despite the fact that I'm sure many of you would probably think that all of the posts about Chapel Hill are 'travel writing', I feel there's some distance between writing about this quintessential American campus-university and the adventures that I'm just setting off on to other parts of the US. Tomorrow we're setting off to DC, the capital of the United States, home of the President and where more rain falls than in the 'Rainy City' of Seattle. 

I'm pretty excited - albeit a little bit nervous since my Milton and Melancholia essay is due the hour that we leave and I'm no where near done - but that's besides the point. By the time I arrive in DC I'm sure Il Penseroso will be far far far from my thoughts. I definitely feel like I need this break though. Recently, with midterms and essays and more midterms and more essays and then presentations heaped up on top and that's before we even consider the compulsory classes - it's been a culture shock period. I even wrote a miserable little blog entry that I didn't dare post because it would have terrified people into probably not wanting to do Study Abroad. The fact is, these last few weeks have been terrifyingly reminiscent of the IB - those long, aching months where your soul was lost in paper and ink and now the blinking cursor of a word document. I do believe that still stands, even with the crest of this wave about to break. However, and this is the reason I never put up that wretched, self-pitying post before: this is also such a challenge, so different and so utterly amazing that it cannot truly be a comparison to that most-hated of times. Where your sense of self was devoured by the Baccalaureate Leviathon, here it's more about re-examining the way you think. I think back home I was beginning to take it for granted that there was a life beyond my apartment, but now I'm appreciating it more.


I still miss the freedom of Edinburgh. But I'm also finally comfortable enough here to start branching out. I just wish I had the safety nets I've built up back home here. I really miss discussing ideas with people who are in the same boat rather than trying to bounce off poor Andrea who really probably doesn't care about why Milton uses the word 'darkling' or why Simone de Beauvoir was compelled to write The Second Sex. But one day at a time, things are becoming easier. Still, I can't wait for the break to come so I can walk through a city and feel that bustle of too many people and breath in its air and become a non-entity in a crowd rather than sticking out like the sore-British thumb on Franklin.


Day One - Taco Bell

Oh my god MANIC day. We've just arrived in the hostel, I'm listening to Hall&Oates and I'm not sure this is best first impression to make of a Washington. The first part of this I wrote in the car - but I think I want to quickly note my impressions of this place. 

I feel exhausted. The hostel is a strange, dingy sort of place. Wrinkling my nose and trying not to scowl, I toed off my shoes whilst the others checked in ahead of me. You're not allowed shoes inside the building except flip flops for the showers. It smells funny though and not just from the damp shoes. Inside I can hear the familiar countdown of 24 that I associate still with Sunday mornings as my dad runs on the treadmill downstairs and turns the volume up so loud that I might as well be watching it with him. There are two men on the sofa, older than I expected them to be. I associate hostels with Choir tour and lots of young people our age. The room is dark, that smell is still in the air and there's 'stuff' just everywhere - linen, towels, chairs, pillows. There's a vague organisation to it, shelves predominated by sheets, tables by piles of dirty slips.  We heard one man saying very loudly that a girl I hadn't previously noticed shouldn't ever lie to herself because:

"If you lie to yourself, you're going straight to hell."

There was something oddly reminiscent of Marmeladov from 'Crime and Punishment' about him.

We're all a bit bedraggled and grumpy because of the journey, which really wasn't so bad, but me and Andrea haven't really been sleeping so well (my fault entirely). Something about that and the darkness of the evening and the continual rain has clouded itself over me and I'm finding it hard to see a shred of anything nice about this place. It's only for three nights - I suppose that's a positive. We were given a tour - the bathrooms are clean and nice and much brighter than the rest of the rooms and the kitchen is airy if a little gloomy. Our room, where I'm now perched, is just plain peculiar - the beds are typical iron-bar bunk beds, the windows all have the shutter blinds pulled, there is one light that flickers like a camera flash and one steady, yellow light. there are filing cabinets that line the wall by my bed and a creep door that leads to nowhere in a corner, completely cut off by our bunks. I think I'd rather have paid the extra $16 a night at the other place but I then I'm not here as long as Alex and Andrea.

That's who I'm here with by the way - the hilarious, hyperactive Alex and my wonderful roomie. It was Alex's idea really - although I always did have Washington on my list to come - and it was so much fun travelling down here with them. We managed to get a lift with Jess and her dad from Chapel Hill, which was pretty perfect since it meant that with a little bit of planning we were all in the car by 1230 and in DC by 530pm. The ride was awesome. At first of course it was small talk and we were a little careful about what we discussed because you can never tell how liberal someone's parents are here. But Jess' dad turned out to be brilliant and so charming. He even joined in somewhat when we blasted Taylor Swift and belted out tuneless harmonies alongside her (or Jess, Andrea and I did). 

We also had a moment when we past Quantico and I couldn't help but be incredibly excited!! Quantico!! It's where the FBI Academy is for those who don't know and driving through just reconfirmed my desire to visit - if it's allowed. I've heard it is... but maybe you have to be American??? 

After that we saw a Taco Bell and of course we went. Andrea and Jess have been talking American fast food for the last half an hour and everything sounds so tasty, albeit like a heart attack. So we stopped at the station, filled up with petrol and skipped over to finally (I say finally because Andrea's been lauding taco bell for a while now) taste the burritos of this renowned joint. It was an experience - I'm not sure if I'd seek it out ever again but then I've pretty much forgotten the taste of it already. It filled the hole though and definitely beat the nasty Rams sandwich I'd stowed in my bag before we left. It was pretty good fun though and I've now ticked off another Americanism that I wanted to experience. 

When we arrived it was raining again. We left in the rain, drove in the dim daylight of Virginia and then re-entered the downpour in DC. I've shed my oversized clammy jumper and slipped into my chiffon shirt because we're planning on going out in a bit and now I'm just procrastinating whilst the others do stuff (I probably ought to be doing something too). I'll let you know about tonight tomorrow though - I'm tired. Snooooze time. 

  

Andrea and Alex beneath The Washington Post

So this is last night. 

As you can see, it had just about stopped raining but it was beautiful the way the light glanced up off the road  from the puddles of the pavement.

You can just about see the figures of Andrea and Alex in that one. 

I relished the fact that we were back in a city though. 

Did you know that there's a height restriction on all buildings in DC? In 1899 the Height of Buildings Act meant that no building could be over 34m tall. Apparently that's because they feared that the European aesthetic would be dwarfed and destroyed by the Skyscraper that was just beginning to emerge at the time in NYC and place. This means that as a city, it's spread outwards rather than upwards and the skyline is much lower than most cities. It's an odd atmosphere because of that law, or at least, it's odd in my oh-so-experienced opinion, because the streets are so much wider than those of London or Edinburgh, yet not even the business district towers above the rest of the city. As we wondered the shimmering streets, it gave me a weird sense of familiarity and defamiliarity.  I did enjoy exploring at night though. I hope we'll see some of the monuments that way too.  I suppose we shall if we're not too tired.

It wasn't too late a night - we just explored a few bars and such. It's much more of a stickler here with the drinking age because Andrea's not 21 so we had to pick and choose where we went. But I can now tell you that:

1. Harry and Harriets Bar and Family Restaurent is awesome - great atmosphere and amazing character. BUT if you're like me don't bother trying to eat there, just enjoy their vodka cokes (horrendously strong) because they cook everything in peanut oil like Chik-Fil-A. Tres annoying - I was looking forward to that calamari too. 

2. The Green Turtle isn't fun - it's incredibly expensive ($8 beers?!) and they're kind of rude. No recommendation there unless you really really like TV - in which case they have an HDTV in every booth so you don't have to try talking to your date there if it becomes too awkward. 

3. Don't try to get into Rocket Bar without and I.D. It may not be obvious but their bouncer is canny. 

Day Two - I need CLOTHES?!

It's freezing. Oh my god it is COLD. We woke up pretty earlier, had a cup of tea, all I really wanted to do was catch up on sleep but that doesn't look like it's going to happen here. And now we're back and we've been out for nearly 12hours and I swear my toes have frozen off. 

When we woke up the sky was really blue and since we were used to the Carolina Blue Days of UNC we expected that it would start of chilly and end up sweltering. We dressed accordingly. 

Bare legged and cardigan clad, we stepped out into the bright light of a DC Day and began the amble across to The Mall. At this point there was a lot of 'ooing and ahing' as we passed interesting buildings, saw sunshine dancing off glass hotels, noticed the bird-cage in a 'historic hotel' and found our way first to the FBI Building. It's an imposing building, bland but in that cruel, soulless way that styles many 1960s designs. It has two key parts, one higher than the other due to the height restrictions on the city and is made of a unique type of cement. All around it are these ugly plant pots that aren't actually decorative but subtly act to stop people driving cars into the building up to it with any ease. Compared to the other buildings it was pretty ugly but imposing. I was thrilled and took a few photos much to Alex's amusement. 

After wondering round we went to the International Spy Museum on Rebecca's suggestion. It was fascinating. Of course it was. They had so much information from the realities to the fictive. I suppose we have to take it all with a pinch of salt because it's giving a face to the secret service. Whilst it's likely all true, I dare say there's so much more to it and my curiosity was peaked rather than assuaged.    

Walking from the Museum was when the cold began to hit - it was the wind that was so chill and I definitely let my inner winy child loose. The Mall is awe inspiring though. A long strip of grass stretching from the Capital to the Washington Memorial, down to the Pools of Reflection (currently the swamp of confusion) and up to the Jefferson Memorial. It was at this point that I'll mention the fact that the cold wind, the cool feeling that Dostoevsky describes so well as that 'vague and mysterious emotion' first hit. I love it when you look at something, both eerily familiar and unfamiliar and lose all words - because it's magnificent and beyond language and yet lifeless and flat because it's imprinted on your mind rather than understood. 

I chased some birds. We went to the Holocaust Museum. That same feeling crept up on me then but for other reasons - it wasn't magnificent what you saw, although it was amazing how they'd created a memorial to that horrific time with so much care. The little leaflets that you're given with the name of a victim, the story that the course of the permanent exhibits weave for you... it's stunning and terrible. By the end both Andrea and I couldn't help but feel the sting of tears as we watched the final film that told the personal story of survivors. At times you couldn't even help but wonder if it would have been easier to be one of those sent to the gas chambers rather than go through the harrowing experiences that these people did. But you also see the greatest desire of all: to live, triumph in them and the fact that they went on to do so much, to marry, have families, hold jobs... it was heart-wrenchingly bitter-sweet. 

On a lighter note we went to Hooters for a late lunch/early dinner.

After that it was time to go back to the hostel, eye some interesting sculptures, admire the view one more time before dashing back to warm up. 

It really was freezing.

Once back we made plans and ended up back in Down Town for another few drinks before we crashed out in the dorms around 1am.

One thing I'll say though is that they really need to improve on their wine lists.Chardonnay just isn't pleasant.

OOPS. I totally forgot to mention that we also went to the WHITE HOUSE - it was sometime between the Mall and Hooters. You couldn't really see it properly which was a real shame but here's the photo I do have:

It's really pretty though. So much reminds me of Haileybury in Washington though - and parts of New Town but mainly Haileybury and Central London. A lot of it is very much like what you see when you walk around Hyde Park and Kensington.

Day Three - Eight Miles and FINALLY a decent glass of wine. 

Today we walked. And walked. And walked. Actually we walked about 8miles according to google maps. pretty impressive huh?

We did ALL the monuments - walking from Capitol Hill down the Mall, past Washington Monument, round past the Holocaust Museum, over the bridge, up to the Jefferson Memorial, along the Tidal Basin to see FDR's Memorial, cut across the embankment to see MLK and the WWII memorials then up the side of the Reflecting Pools (which are currently mere mud and sludge in a vaguely rectangular shape - perhaps a metaphor for the current state of things?) and then finally to the Lincoln Memorial where we sat down for the first time in what seemed an exceptionally long time. But having decided to keep going we then when up to the Albert Einstein Memorial, walked along Constitution Avenue past the Vietnam Veternas Memorial and the 56 Signer's of the Declaration of Independence Memorial, limped up Virginia Avenue towards Foggy Bottom where we ambled until we could amble no more and took refuge in a Starbucks whilst we tried to figure out where to go for an early dinner.

 And whilst on this rather epic journey we stopped by the Newseum ($15 entry as students meant we didn't actually go in which was rather disappointing), The Air and Space Museum (don't bother with the simulators they're boring and expensive - go to the awesome imax experience where you feel like you're floating in space) and Andrea climbed a tree.

Anyway, so here are some photos that highlight  this trek around the strangely symmetrical city. 

Romantic? I just like the bird in the left corner.

Can you try and imagine how huge the Capitol actually is?

Haileybury Chapel moment - just paint it green.

Andrea looking out over the pretty pool towards Capitol

Feeling small yet?

Washington Monument from another angle

WWII Monument

Thomas Jefferson

Lincoln Memorial - doesn't he look important?

Washington Monument from inside Lincoln Memorial.

FDR and his wee dog and us.

Out of the Mountain of Despair: a Stone of Hope

Lincoln from across the Basin

The Quagmire that isn't Reflecting and Washing Memorial
 again.

 When we finally DID have dinner it was an Italian place called Bertuccis. It was marvellous. The food was delicious and the portions weren't over the top like so many places that we've been. But best of all was the glass of Pinot that I ordered. It was the first glass of wine I'd had in so long that didn't taste of piss or Chardonnay. As you can imagine I was pretty content. After that we decided to go straight into Lindy's Red Lion - a pub. In the middle of DC. It wasn't too loud like a bar, it didn't just serve beer like He's Not - it was a PUB. So for all those Brits wandering the continent of America - there IS a proper pub even if its miles away and that's reassuring. It definitely made me pine less for Drouthy's (at least for a little bit). The bar tender was such a gent too and was so chatty - even trying to set me and Andrea up with two guys who were there to drink... Jaeger Bombs. I couldn't take them seriously after that.


All in all (because that was my last night in DC!!!) I've had a great time. I'm now on the megabus back to Durham and then to RDU to PICK UP MY SISTER eeeeeeee!!!!
I think I'm going to make a pros and cons post and put that up so that you guys don't have to read all this stuff again BUT to those of you who have made it through to then end - I Love You and Thank You for Reading.

Je serai poète et toi poésie, 
SCRIBBLER

Eccentric Edinburgh

Eccentric Edinburgh:

Yes, all literature students like to steal titles from books to look cool.

As usual, I’m writing an article on my computer, wondering how to start and what exactly I’m going to say. Wrapped up in everything warm that I could find, including a furry hat and a scarf that’s thicker than my waist, I’m happily basking in the Edinburgh sun that’s blinking in the bright blue sky. It’s a beautiful day. Arthurs Seat shadows the greenery of the golf course and the hulk of the Crags lies across the skyline in a twisted, draconian ridge of volcanic basalt. Yes, I have just contradicted the commonly held belief that there is never a nice day in Scotland. It is rare, hence I’m rejoicing in the sunshine, writing this with gloves on because the sun is still cold, but it does still happen.

And when Edinburgh is lit up the way it is today, it’s hard not to fall in love with it. This is the sort of sun that wooed me when I came up for the post-offer, open day and it’s the sort of weather that sticks around for a few brief days and then disappears again so that the rain, snow and hail can have their fair turn at playing with the emotions of students and locals alike. There is nothing nicer than moseying down to Grassmarket in the sun, rummaging through the antique bookstores and vintage clothing racks before hitting ‘The Auld Hoose’. There is nothing like wandering through the cobbled streets for a ‘wee pie’ before trundling home through the Georgian buildings or watching the sunset over the meadows. Oh yes, it’s terribly sappy to say all this but it’s those things that make it worth my while to write this article outside, in the freezing cold, about a place that I’ve only been in for a few months.

But, what almost every parent and teacher will know, and what pretty much every Haileyburian will discover, is that in the short, few months since September so much that can change. There’s more to do than you thought possible and the people you meet are the people you’ve always wanted to meet. Yes, there are your ‘Fresher-friends’ that you spoke to for the first three weeks and then suddenly realised that you still didn’t know their names, but there are also the people that you swiftly and certainly know that you want to know for the rest of your life. They’re the sort of people that will wake you up at 630 in the morning to go swimming but you don’t mind, despite the fact that your lecture is at twelve and you could have slept in. You laugh and banter and bicker and owe and dress up with and go out with and, and, and. It’s a funny place but I don’t think that anywhere but here could have offered me the quirky characters I’ve come to know and love. From the theatre crews with their snarky, sarcastic witticisms to the musical lot with all their peculiarities and the wonderful friends you meet in Halls; there’s such a thriving mix of different people because there’s so much to do and so many separate things that lure you to them.

But... what of the infamous, IB? That insidious monster the brave few took on in the last two years at Haileybury? Did that help me when I got here? Did it make a difference to anything; my choices or activities or classes or grades? I think there’s a mixed result in that. I live in a university halls with several people who did the IB; one who took it in Singapore, two who fought through it at Sevenoaks and Oakam , another who conquered the beast in Italy and my two next door neighbours who survived it in Japan. I certainly believe that, unlike some of the people in my halls, the seven of us seem to have a better work ethic in terms of getting things done, organising ourselves and our time and all of that malarkey that the A-level students never seemed to have had to do before. There’s the slight issue of free time that we IBers had little-to-no understanding of at the beginning and rediscovering a sleeping pattern seems to still be a challenge for Natsumi but for the most part, we’ve managed to adjust to the university workload pretty well. But the thing is... there isn’t much of a work load.

At Edinburgh you take three subjects in your first year, your major or dual-major and one or two minors. You then have two exceptionally long semesters in which you only have to write a maximum of five essays, usually given to you three weeks in advance. It’s actually really nice. You can do all the moseying, trundling, wandering and aimless ambling that any student with too much free time can do. You can read all those books that you missed out on, watch the films that you forwent, go to all the parties, pubs, clubs and bars that you can name (and probably still suggest several that you’ve forgotten the name of). You can go shopping, as long as your student loan or your beloved parents still fill your bank account, and you don’t need a consent form or a sign-out/in sheet. Hooray for university. Finally you’re free of the diatribe and silliness of bubble-land.

If anything, it was everything else that’s made me want to do the things I’ve done. The Haileybury Choir has led me to the University Music Society, I’ve even suggested that we do Jonathon Dove’s ‘The Turning of the Year’ simply because it was one of the best pieces of music I’ve ever heard. I’ve started dancing because the people in the Dance-Show always used to make me jealous of their talent. Pastimes and the various stories told there, especially Mr Parkin’s ‘Thomas the Tank Engine Goes to Hell’ has seen my showing up in the Scottish Storytelling Centre and I’m helping out with Theatre Paradok’s performance of the Grimm Fairytales, because Little Red Riding Hood still, secretly, has a place in my heart.

So was it worth it? I don’t think so. And I would not and could not ever recommend it. I can joke around calling the IB a monster and a beast but the number of breakdowns I saw, the amount of crying most of us did wasn’t worth it. Although Edinburgh does seem to have a significant amount of IB students here (most of them living on my corridor it would seem) there’s also a general consensus that, if given the chance, we wouldn’t be doing it again. There’s even a couple who still have nightmares about the final exams (oddly enough it seems to be the chemistry higher students). So no: not a good recommendation from Edinburgh. Sorry IBO, you’re just not that cool.

But that’s enough of the melodrama; Edinburgh’s a much nicer thing to talk about. It’s a cosmopolitan, characterful, cheerful place where people laugh at the horizontal rain and the stigma against the midday drink. It’s the place where the Music Society has a special membership-loyalty card that gets you cheap food and drink in ‘Droughty Neebors’, which apparently means ‘drinking buddies’; where the theatre is named after an asylum (Bedlam) and where ‘Psychosis’ has been performed inside a renovated church. It’s where a 24-hour culture of students from four different universities muddle through the days and nights in the cornucopia of cafes, bars, tea shops, various enticing markets and all of those other wondrous places.

This is my ‘Jekyll and Hyde City’, the place where the ‘auld’, medieval squalor can still be found between dark corners and gothic pinnacles but so can the elegance of the nineteenth century New Town. It’s an eclectic, eccentric and individual city and that’s why I’m now saving this article to disk, sending it to Mr Dexter and waving adieu: I’m off to meet the others in the local where they’ll watch the match of the day, I’ll read Dr Faustus, and we’ll all have a ‘braw auld time’.

Je serai poète et toi poésie,
 SCRIBBLER