How to Enjoy Washington DC

So I've already established that DC is not the most interesting city nor is it the most dull place. It's...just there. As a global nomad, I go for the slightly bizarre quirky things. As a quasi-American, I go for the history. And as a peacebuilder in training, I go for...yeah...peace. (No 60s peace/love/crack/pot stuff...a little more class people.) I have had a very good time here and so I advise the following...yet...these are through the lense of a quirky global nomad.

Several favorite activities at DC:

1) Drinking coffee at Caribou Coffee at Metro Center. There's a Starbucks every two blocks and I got spiteful. I loved my iced coffee watching people ascend and descend from the metro, writing my emails and papers, and trying to understand the whole appeal of a rustic-themed coffee joint.

2) Library of Congress. I got so excited. I did! The building is beautiful but you've gotta take a tour...take a tour my friend or you'll miss this temple to the importance and value of knowledge.

3) Jazz in the Sculpture Garden. I enjoyed the little bit I was here but it does it crowded and it's a thing you do with friends.

4) Stroll Downtown. I would put on my good clothes and my shades and pretend I belonged down there. The prettier parts of town would be Dupont or even up where I lived, Takoma Park or there's the Mall with the tourist in Chicos and Nikes. I liked all of the above. But I really digged downtown.

5) The Botanical Gardens: I flipped for this place. It's truly so beautiful. I enjoyed sitting and communing with my inner-self and mediating on community and peace (or not). Really, loved seeing all the green because...well...the Mall's grass is a little crewed up from the Crocs.

6) The Holocaust Museum: If you want to change the world, visit this place. I was moved beyond words, and affected far after I spent nearly four hours touring the memorial. I wasn't entirely sure how to process what I saw, but I promised myself I would never, ever, ever engage in any form of racism.

7) Lunch at the Tidal Basin: Overlooking the Jefferson Momument with dates and families out on the paddle boats. It was green, tree-lined and peaceful. I was contente.

8) See a Good Movie: It was "Julie and Julia" for me. Read the reviews, visit Rotton Tomatos, watch the trailers, and hit a matinee. You can go alone, it's still fun but you must bring your own candy and you must laugh loudly like an American at all the jokes. It's part of the cultural experience.

9) Uhh...visit DC and try something for yourself. You can also sera content (e).

How to Pick a Summer Blockbuster

I truly adore the cinema. I admit it. I love everything about the experience (except the popcorn, too expensive. I smuggle in peanut M&Ms, only the peanut ones). Now at my uni, we have a weekly film shown in the school’s largest lecture hall…in lecture chairs…on square projector scene…with crappy lecture hall sound system…now people that’s like a layover in Dubai…you do it but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable.

So obviously while here in DC, I had to crash the cinema with my smuggled food at a less expensive matinee. I'd seen the trailers for this particular film. I read the reviews and I made the choice. This was going to be make me happy and...shockingly it did! I fulfilled my craving for the cinema, my love for stories set in my favorite city of Paris, and this longstanding desire to see a movie on opening weekend. I went to see “Julie and Julia;” center theater in between two popcorn chomping couples.

I loved it. I really did. Normally I don’t blog politics or television but there was something special about this film. It followed two women. 1) Julia Child, following her career diplomat husband (who she married in China when working for the State Department as a secretary) to Paris in the 1950s. She tries hat-making lessons, bridge lessons before deciding to take cooking lessons (she and her husband both agreed she’s so good at eating). 2) Julia Powell, a 2002 mid-range bureaucrat in NYC plodding through a passion-less life, and struggling to overcome a chronic inability to finish projects. She decides to blog her way through Julia Child’s cookbook in one year. A film centered around blogging…that’s one reason I chose this to be my first film to see opening weekend. I thought it might stir some thoughts for my very own blog!

I admired Julia right off the bat. She was good humored, engaging, humble, and completely relished her life a diplomatic global nomad. But then again, I’m completely Julie. I fret about doing something meaningful. I become frustrated when life seems to be sapped of passion, I sometimes feel like I don't deserve the wonderful people in my life and I and procrastinate with tasks like boning ducks.

I deeply admire women like Julia Child who rise to greatness by just being themselves; unassuming and without seeing any glory for themselves. I admire women who don’t turn into men in an effort to prove that women are just as adequate as men or attempt to effect change in their spheres of influence. I admire people like Julie to make tiny steps to bring joy in their lives and later share it with others.

So what’s the global nomad’s lesson from my love of cinema and adoration for this movie? Well, the film was about blogging. I’m going to try and blog more! But the application…make time to do what you love on the weekend. It’s good for the soul and there’s no sense running yourself into the ground. That’s what I’ve learned over the summer and I’ll pass it on.

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?