Washington DC is quite possibly the friendliest place I’ve ever visited. Aside from the weather (which seemed bitterly cold to my San Diego sensibilities), it was a real delight to be walking the streets of our Nation’s capital. Wherever I went, locals were always kind enough to point me in the right direction. The first night I was there, I was given a metro ticket for free and was later offered a ride to the monuments by a wonderfully kind man from Bolivia. Friendly and welcoming barely describes the warm hospitality I received from DC locals.
Breakfast in DC
I even learned a bit of DC slang so I can now ask someone for a “jack” or cigarette like a local, even though I never would because I don’t smoke. And if I were ever dissed by someone, I would know that I had been “carried” by that person, as they call it in DC.
Wandering around the larger-than-life monuments of our past presidents and through the numerous Smithsonian museums bedecked in treasures from Monet, Matiss
e, the Hope Diamond, war planes from the great World Wars and bones from the dinosaurs was nothing less than amazing. Even just trekking back and forth before the Capital building was marvelous! I made my way up to the White House (or as close as you can get to it, really) which looked just as it does in the many many movies and pictures I’d seen before.
I even glimpsed the Presidential motorcade streaming down Pennsylvania Avenue no less than three times I was in DC. For those who have never seen this, policemen stop at every intersection in the path of the motorcade to stop all traffic, both pedestrian and motorists, and you wait until the numerous motorcycle cops and large black sedans and SUVs come flying down the street with the speed of urgency. Quite the show indeed.
I also spent a good deal of time eating my way through DC (with all that walking, a girl has just GOT to keep her strength up!). I wandered into Ben’s chili stand down on U St, where it seemed as though you just entered into a 1950’s parlor. Red and white vinyl decorations littered the restaurant with the liveliest staff manning the fryers and register. A serious discussion about Terrell Owens’ athletic performance went on between a cook and guys at the end of the bar. Proudly run by blacks since 1958 (as a posted sign proclaimed), the only people who eat at Ben’s for free are Bill Cosby and the Obama Family.
All in all, I found DC to be a wonderful collection of culture, with the hope of change clinging to the winter air. It was diversity at its best, and I am certainly looking forward to visiting again.
