How DC Stacks Up

So I spent eight weeks of my summer interning in America's capital. I had mixed feelings about it initially as I continued hearing comments like, "DC...yeah...it's not bad....""Yeah I've found things to enjoy about DC...""Oh my gosh! The crime! I had that freakin' city! And Dulles? I don't have words for Dulles....""DC tries to be cool, but it's not." I never heard anyone praise the city while gushing about it's wonderous sights, like say Paris or NYC. DC is just...blah. Yeah. Next please!

I have to agree with them. If you don't like politics, government or happy hour, DC is disappointing. There's no Champs Elysee where people strut their Prada and shop their hearts out. There's no Disney World where kiddies and parents scream on big rides. There isn't glamour, or culture or any real style. There isn't even anything that old. DC is a pretty modern capital when stacked up against world heritage sites.

DC is a political center. It's where latte-drinking, Gap-wearing, elite-educated type-As come with their determined face, going to change the world. It's not a place for hippies or culture-shakers. Life seems to revolve around happy hour where these trimmed individuals network over a margarita and extol the virtues of the current president. DC wants to be progressive. I can't say if they actually are. It's a culture of driven people, some fed up with bureaucracy, other's comfortable in their position in the hierarchy of power. Some out to change the world, others to change the country, and then there locals who simply call DC home and don't have anywhere else to go.

I've been amazed how much DC is an African American city. I know Africa. I love Eastern/Southern Africa. All I know about African Americans is what I've seen on TV which is ironically the same medium Africans learn about white Americans. I've been intrigued by a sub-culture I see here, one which I know nothing about but is such a large part of the country. It's such a large part of the city, but they don't seem to affect the city's group of driving world-changers.

If you love US history. DC is a blast. I've had my fair share of amusement and utterly delighted that I know many of the names, places, and dates on artifacts. (I did enjoy 11th grade US history while living in Addis Abba.) I had a field day gazing up at the US. Capitals rotunda and seeing the original flag inspired the Star Spangled Banner was a unique experience as I tried to connect to my American roots. If you want to go shopping. There's Georgetown but you should take the AmTrac to NYC. Every American has to do DC, and 4th grade school trips don't count if you can't remember it. There's a lot to like and there's lots of good food. That's for sure!

Stacked up against other cities....DC...uh....maybe... I truly couldn't say. There isn't anything really bad about it. I've live here two-five years, no more. I could do that, play the part and enjoy the glories of urban life. The crime is terrible but it's sure nice to have so many coffee shop choices and there's a fantabulous selection of world cultures. However, the nomad communities are largely South/Latin American, and I'm more of a Europe/Africa/Asia lover myself.

I'll give DC a seven out of ten...I think I'll keep shopping. I've got time...

How Frisbee is the National Sport

One of DC most famous locations is "The Mall"...a long stretch of grass flanked by multiple museums, with the Capital at one end and the Lincoln Memorial at the other. In the center stands the the Washington Monument (I got my ticket to visit in the mail today, ha!). The Mall is a nice stretch of grass available for all sorts of activities.

Saturday I ate my lunch at The Mall (on The Mall? in The Mall? Uhhh....). While my favorite Bollywood song charged through my Ipod, I enjoyed a feast of visual amusement. I watched the tourist in Chicos wandering up and down hitting the sites, taking photos with the Capital or Monument in the background. Many attempting to humor their screaming children with promises of treats or threats of naps. There were a few bikers (also in Chicos), a few isolated individuals attempted to make political statements (mostly in dreadlocks)...and then there were the athletes (also frequently in Chicos).

I've been on The Mall quite a few times. It's taken a while to crash all the museums. I've always been amused by what people do on that grass. If it was France, Kenya, Zambia, or most places on earth, soccer enthusiasts would be kicking a spotted ball around. It it had been Zim or Pak, the insane cricket freaks would be standing bored in white outfits waiting to dash after a red cork ball. But this is America. And the only sport people engage in on the green Mall is....Frisbee. Once I saw baseball which was drawing a sizable crowd, but that's it. I was amazed, and humored.

I wondered what this said about the American culture. I deduced several good things. It's easy to join in on Frisbee. It's easy to learn. It's easy to play. The equipment is super cheap. It's sociable and you can talk while you play. Anyone of any age, size, gender, ethnic background can join in. There's some skill involved in Frisbee but it's hard to feel like an idiot no one's left feeling like an idiot. Frisbee enthusiasts play the more sophisticated, "ultimate Frisbee" which because I've never played, I can't in good faith blog about it but I've heard is fantabulous.

Thus, through inductive reasoning, I theorize that Frisbee is the national sport. Now like good capitalists we need to develop the perfectly shaped Frisbee, the right color, the right squeezable grips on the sides, and then outsource production to Asia and sell them en mass on Amazon.com. It's the American way. Go find a Frisbee. Embrace it. It's a pretty fun sport.

How to Ride the DC Public Transit System

Riding public transport is currently the rage for several reasons. 1) It's now more economical. 2) it's now more environmentally friendly (because before, it just wasn't), and 3) it's simply easier. I've historically gone to great lengths to express my unflinching support of public transit. I've spent a good deal of my time whinging that America needs more trains (and my college town needs a bus system that runs more then every hour). So imagine my unspeakable joy arriving in DC and once again being united with the power to achieve great things...via the metro.

Four days after I arrived in DC and my first day of work, there was a massive metro accident at 5pm rush hour right outside my home station of Takoma. I opted out of the metro because the whole system was utterly screwed up. So after pouring over bus maps and getting turned around, getting somewhat lost, and being on many occasionally embarrassingly late to work, I believe to have discovered...the tricks of the trade.

1. Get to the bus stop early. The bus is never on time. Mostly, it's late. But then again it could be early. You never know. You have to guess. And most importantly, you have to be early.


2. You must have a SmartTrip card. The flat bus fare is $1.25 with free transfers for up to three hours. Or you can pay cash every ride for $1.35. It's almost always cheaper then the metro. Metro increases it's fares during rush hours by almost a third so it does add up. On the weekend "regular hours," I take the metro but only if I don't plan on any transfers within a three hour period.


3. You must be pushy. People in DC are incredibly pushy and rude. I confess I was shocked when a woman cut me off the first time. I'd let elderly people, or small children go before me (duh!) but to have a rotund women several inches shorter then me in perfectly decent health practically kills in order to board the bus before me...crass. People for all their pushy-ness, typically give up their seats for the elderly and handicap...sometimes children.


4. You must remember the importance of gender sensitivity. Men sit next to men. Women sit next to women. It's just how it goes. However, (like in the French language) exceptions always exist during rush hours. Typically people will stand rather than sit next to someone of the opposite gender and causing discomfort.


5. You must pretend to be busy. The phone rules (I mean the Blackberry). You may do whatever you wish with your phone, texting preferred, loud talking forbidden. On the metro, people read the newspaper. On the bus, they read a novel, or "The Express," or listen to their mp3 devise. Don't speak to anyone, even if you're traveling with someone. Except children. Apparently you're allowed to scream at your child.

How I Ended up In DC

Back in March, I panicked for a very simple reason. I hadn't planned out my life. I had a gaping hole between 27 April and 1 September and like any reasonable, semi-reasonable or even unreasonable student, I had to fill it.

What any student does over the summer is rarely something that's given huge consideration. Most students, just go home where plenty of options exist; work at a theme park, a grocery store, child care, take a class perhaps and don't forget, visiting friends, the beach, a good brai, perhaps visit fellow students in other locations but definitely, let mom do the cooking.

Or...there's the ambitious options. I realized I fell into this category...after I feel into this category. And while internships sound ambitious...uhh...it's not really. So back in March I applied for, 1) A job at my local library, 2) A job at Summer Peacebuilding Institute, and 3) an internship with Women for Women International in Washington DC. Budget cuts and the library didn't pan out. I've already blogged about the richly educational and highly entertaining values which SPI imparted on this lowly staff-er. But what about WWI? Amazingly, that opportunity also knocked on my door.

I learned about WWI from a friend who also did her academic practicum there. I applied. Never thought I'd get it and was dually impressed when I was offered a summer internship in their sponsorship department. Actually, I was elated, ecstatic...I may have squealed because it was Easter break and I had my suite to myself.

So...while working at SPI, I contacted a friend who contacted her church who informed me someone in their congregation had extended family that were looking for a new tenet for their basement apartment. That panned out too. And then after SPI (and hording some of the groceries our participants left), I stored my belongs, connected with someone driving up to DC from Harrisonburg, and...voila! That's how I ended up in DC!

I'm excited. I haven't been in DC since 1995 when my dad ran the Marine Corps Marathon but I do remember thinking the moon rock was cool and the White House was boring. Nearly 15 years later, I'm here for big city therapy after being trapped in a mid-sized American town. Maybe trapped isn't the right adjective. What I really need is metro-ridding therapy.

How SPI Saved EMU (For Me)

This post is unique. It's a personal confession. (I wish I could say it'll be as history-altering as Augustine's "Confessions"). In earlier posts I've told the tale of my relocation to the United States to study peacebuilding at Eastern Mennonite University. My first academic semester was challenging. It's difficult moving to a new country. It's difficult adjusting to a new environment, new norms, and new standards. The problem is exacerbated when you're constantly reminded it's your country. It's where you belong, these are your people so...like...dude....what's your problem?

Many of my problems during this semester began with me. I sought perfect grades where I might have socialized. I hid when I should have spoken out. I kept silent when I should have asserted myself. Yet the legitimacy of my faith was constantly questioned coming from a non-Mennonite background. Everything from my political affiliations, my views on the military, my views on certain protracted conflicts, my opinions on globalization, my opinions on global living and the environment, and certainly my non-Mennonite heritage were challenged and belittled. I felt judged, ignored and irrelevant in a school which claims to celebrate diversity. EMU refuses to fly an American flag on campus, a statement they are citizens of a "global village" and a symbol they are creating a "safe space" where people can express themselves. Yet as a self-professed product of globalization, I felt unwelcome. This was certainly not the intention of many people. This was instead the reality.

I ended the semester on the Dean's List yet incredibly frustrated and angry over what I perceived as rejection. Yet my summer job at SPI changed helped me process these feelings of resentment. I was only on staff. I didn't participate in the classes, discussions or many of the events yet I found that diversity I was seeking. With people from over 35 nations, there was stronger commitment to creating a "safe space." Part of my job was to insure that on-campus students were able to create judgement-free community. Unlike many undergraduates, SPI peacebuilders have acknowledged the world is screwed up. They realize they are only ever going to make small steps towards change. They are less idealistic, less judgemental, and more open to solutions in unusual packages. Because of this, they respect their neighbor and openly extended friendship. I felt this atmosphere. I felt respected for my small contributions. I didn't really say anything. I simply appreciated the acceptance. I needed it. I learned that truly wonderful people, come in truly unusual packages.

So in a way this a plug for Summer Peacebuilding Institute. SPI is awesome. That's the only word I can think of. I needed this experience to help me move forward. This was my epiphany. This was the light at the end of my tunnel. This was where I resolved to be a better person. What will it take for you?

How Your Inner Nomad Fights Back

Modern Me: Everyone does it.

Nomad Me: But it's just embarrassing. I could never do that!

Modern Me: But this is America. Poeple do it all the time.

Nomad Me: But no one needs to know what mine look like!

Modern Me: You did it in France. Have you already forgotten that?

Nomad Me: But that was in the laundry room. This is different. Really, I just can't!

Modern Me: Grow up Grace!

This debate took place on Wednesday afternoon. I had just spent $1.5 to do my laundry and was hardly ready to fork over another $1.5 in quarters to use the dryer. So as the complacent global nomad who's all to prepared to "make a plan," the clothesline it was. But after so many years in Africa and especially after living in Islamabad...well...lets just say I was not about to display my...uh...unmentionables.

"Everyone does it." said my roommate. "I mean, it's not like a secret or anything and no one else lives down here."

Inside, I cringed. "I'm sorry, but I've lived in more conservative cultures and I just can't hang my underwear out for all the world to see. That's just wrong." In my mind, I was vividly remembering being 16 living in Kenya and having a male classmate mock my girlfriends who hung their "flags" on the clothesline "like it was the UN."

The inner global nomad is still small voice inside your head. He's ingrained in you. He's inched his way under your skin and is going to dictate your behavior without you even knowing it. The inner nomad represents any collection of habits and cultural norms from any country that decide to stick with you. The inner nomad pricked me several times this past week. I saw several Afghan men this week and I quickly buttoned the top two buttons on my shirt and questioned my use of shorts as everyday attire. I met several Kenyans and instantly returned their question in my own faux Kenyan accent. I saw my fellow student teasing one of our instructors and was aghast at their "lack of respect for authority." I called the trash can, "the bin." I explicitly told people my parents are from upstate New York. I defended the weather in the southern hemisphere. I was ballistic with joy when I found couscous. And perhaps most embarrassingly, I was corrected in public that a "PE-can" is actually a "peek-UN" (how would I know that?).

Yes the inner-nomad can take over. It's not such a bad thing. I've learned to be okay with his chatter. In my own way, I don't want him to leave because if he does, I'll feel disconnected with so many things I value about my overseas life. So I'm just going to hang certain items in my closet to dry.

How Summer Peacebuilders Can be Hilarious

These are some of my favorite SPI moments thus far.

1) At lunch:
Female Pakistani participant holds up a poppy/onion bagel: "What's this?"
Me: "It's a special kind of American bread. It's best if you put it in the toaster. You have to cut it first."
Female participant, frowning: "Help me, please."
Me, after cutting it and handing it back.
Female participant holds the bagel, picks at the inside of the bagel, examines the texture and shudders horrified.
Me: "It's best if you put it in the toaster and we spread this stuff called cream cheese on it. It's really good, you have to try it."
Female participant shoves half the bagel in my hands, frowning: "I don't want this."


2) Discussing movie night for the participants:
Bill: "I have tons of movies at home we could watch, like Princess Bride or Chitty Chitty Bang Bang."
Me: "I hate that movie! It's awful! We can't subject our participants to that!"
Val: "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, really?"
Me: "It's so annoying!"
Bill: "That's it, you're fired."
Val: "Well in the past, participants like to watch a movie that addresses some issue which they discuss afterwards."
Bill: "That's why I said Wall-E."
Val: "Well..."
Bill: "It's all about environmental degradation."
Val: "Or we could post a list of option and let the participants pick what they're most interested in watching."

3) Discussion registration:
Val: "So no one had any housing issues or anything?"
Me: "Nope, I think everyone is pretty happy."
Kevin: "That or you're just intimidating."

4) At registration Monday morning:
Me: "I'm lodging and housing so if you have any problems let me know."
Participant: "Oh!! I already talked to the health person and I told them I'm diabetic but I can take care of it."
Me: "Okay, great, good to know!"

Other semi-comical episodes included:

• My supervisor (or one of three) setting her scarf on fire the opening ceremony
• Accidentally entering the mall through the lingerie section of JC Penny's with several Middle-Eastern Muslim men
• Waiting up till 5am for a faculty member to arrive in from Fiji (this actually wasn't that funny)
• Manning various explanations for room changes ("she talks on her phone late at night"). This is where I wish I'd taken mediation and/or facilitation
• The constant battle with the never ending spring rain (and my bike adventures back and forth from residence, work, dorm, and information desk)
• And last but not least, working in an office with three hilarious people who talk to themselves continually and who's random thoughts intersect in such bizarre places I'm always amused. SPI is the most fun I've had in a long time. And the funny thing is, I'm on staff. I'm actually working.