‘Schmo Schmanada…’

The Canadian Embassy is ridiculously close to the Capitol building. I mean, granted we already share a border but if that’s the case, why didn’t I see Mexican flags flapping across the street?

I took this for Laurie!

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Bike Tours are a bit like being the last horse in a trail ride

I thought that I posted about this already but must’ve dreamt it…

(link goes to a brief video of my ride…see? Windy!)

I felt rather jealous of the happy tourists, riding in these rickshaws! There’s got to be a better word but it’s a sulky pulled by a dude powering a bike.

Only in DC — for my first time ever — for a long weekend, I wanted to see as many things as possible. Usually, when travelling, I find a pub and piss days away, talking to locals. It’s a good way and my fave. However, I will play tourist on rare occasion!

This was one.

After hitting a few of the Smithsonian aggregate of museums, I REALLY wanted to see the Lincoln Memorial, at least. I felt it my civic duty. Really.

I was getting faint after the 5 hour, several circles of Hell (not all 7 but most) tour of the National Gallery. I talked the going rate of $75/ hr down to $15 for a 20 minute ride.

Several sites were pointed out but it was so bloody windy, I heard perhaps 1/2. I did get to see the White House, though!

Sort of. Welcome to post-911 America. If you can zoom and and squint, that’s the South side.

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‘Round the Hirshhorn

-HAR! See what I did there? It rhymes with Matterhorn AND is, in fact, a round building!

Definitely had to hit the Hirshhorn what-with that degree last century in art.

AussieEmJay took far more pictures but I enjoyed my time there. Of all the Smithsonian museums, the Gift Shop at the Hitshhorn had the happiest and least irritated to be bothered by customer presence. It kinda scared me til I realised they were just happier people. ::shrugs::
Exterior:

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Interior’s Exterior (this is a 22 second video linking to my Flickr)

The Gift Shop is beyond the escalator. The room is covered in an installation by somebody famous: don’t judge me, you’ll be old and forgetful one day

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Flickrerer

I used to be on Flickr for a specific site of creative cooperation (I was a little ducky in the pond on Ze Frank’s old joint).

I started a new one for my Vox account (also, now defunct) but that means the Flickr ID still lives on–though I deleted the app from my phone. I reinstalled it maybe a couple of years ago.

If it all works out, I’ll be sharing more from poor, old Flickr again!

Où est la bibliothèque? The U.S. Library of Congress

After our Capitol tour, thanks to my request SEVERAL MONTHS in advance and thanks to Senator McCaskill’s office providing the reservations 6 days before…

I got to enjoy an hugely unexpected delight of one the loveliest places I’ve been!

While I think most Americans have heard of the capital’s underground tunnels, I didn’t expect to be using them!

We used one to go from the Capitol Visitor Centre to the Capitol. After our tour, AussieEmJay asked if I’d like to take the tunnel to the Library of Congress.

When in Rome, the answer is always, ‘Boy, howdy!’

We walked through what looks like any underground hallway in an university or hospital, up into an artistically inspirational oasis!

You could take photos all.damned.day.

You could gawk all.damned.day.

My little phone’s camera and mobile-tower uploading through WP’s app doesn’t do it justice. I’ve been over and about France and England, where I did some touristy stuff, getting paid to do so, not as a guide but chaperone. This wasn’t my first rodeo, as people say. -obviously I’ve been to numerous literal rodeos–truck pulls, too

Are the new readers gone yet?

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‘SCIENCE!’

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And what one finally expected to see:

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While I could’ve continued stumbling on stairs and being knocked over by other gobsmacked onlookers, we headed to an exhibit of Thomas Jefferson’s personal library–or what’s left after losing 2/3 to fire. This one can’t be blamed on the British, though the entire first Library of Congress being burnt to ashes can.

Kill whomever you must but the BOOKS?!?

You may catch my reflection in the glass case but I doubt it:

For my 4 uncles who fought in WWII

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The Story of my war memorials tour–which is an odd sort of pastime and let me say doesn’t feel uplifting to me but growing up where all your loved ones were Marines or Regular Enlisted Army might change a girl–worth telling is that I unintentionally became a Photo Op.

At the Korean War Memorial, I arrived with 2 coaches full of Old People. They weren’t NEAR as old as my uncle Bill (who died this year), who was in that conflict.

These looked like Nam people but whatever.

I went through the walk which is meant to feel like you’re marching alongside the soldiers and skipped getting close to the artfully etched glass, which many Asians seemed way more into–possibly because many Asians were pictured. Maybe they were common fighters. Maybe they were famous. I had a terrible public school education.

At the end of the walkway, most people skirted to the pavement and continued through the Mall, if that end is still considered that. The problem with being Me is I don’t use maps and typically prefer to find a local pub to both Drink -duh. and to let locals tell me Their Stories.

ANYHOOZLES

I couldn’t help but notice part of the memorial was a lovely, delicate pondish fountain. I went the road less travelled and found myself at the farthest point from the crowd, where the tinkling as about 4 small steppes met the reservoir. I was standing there, sunlight in my eyes, shadows cast by the slightly larger than life statues across the way. I thought of Uncle Bill. I thought of so many dead soldiers who I loved and whose blood I share.

I knelt, as one does, to reflect.

I sat on my shins for some time, perhaps a little sad. They’re all gone now, those faces under billed caps and sepia-toned photos in frames sent to their Irish Ma, my Granny. I thought about a lot of things, which aren’t anybody’s business and would either be sappy or boring.

I heard something and without moving, switched my glance from the softly moving water to the sound. A rank of people photographing me like I’m Uma Thurman were directly across.

I found this gauche but then reckoned it my fault for forgetting where I was.

If you see someone in a similar posture, I’d suggest a shot from the hip and go. Be respectful, you fecking cunts.

Like Forrest, that’s all I have to say about that.