We meet again, old vague acquaintance.
I never did get the hang of you last time.
Your entry into the White House was sudden, unexpected, tragic. It was inevitable for you to end up in Jack's shadow. History didn't change that.
Your domestic experience gave you no credit among students of diplomatic history. Whatever foreign policy you led, we usually accounted to your predecessor's memory. Besides, your foreign policy = Vietnam.
You are little more than a footnote in books about U.S. policy in the Middle East, and he only thing really worth mentioning is your strong support for the State of Israel (but then this isn't exactly unique among American presidents).
You are said to be one of the main inspirations behind Kevin Spacey's character in "House of Cards" (along with King Richard III of England). Good for you.
Your name. Lyndon! It sounds like a character from a 1950s superhero comic (though no the hero. Not the villain either, I think. The jury is still out). The only U.S. politician sounding more like a superhero comic character is Spiro Agnew. You can't beat that.
You did leave a legacy in domestic politics. But I don't study domestic politics.
You're from Texas. Which called for another footnote in the books about U.S. policy in the Middle East, as you were already accustomed to deal with oil companies. So no need to mention that part of your foreign policy either.
Your wife is called Lady Bird. That is all.
You share initials with your wife (and your daughters, and your dog), though I think it would be much more entertaining if you also shared her middle name. Lyndon Bird Johnson makes you sound even more like a character from a superhero comic (though still not the hero).
We were never friends. I don't think that will change this time either. But perhaps I might get to know you a little better, at least?
I am not sure how I feel about that.
Showing posts with label Washington DC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Washington DC. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Thursday, October 6, 2011
On US of (f)A(ll)
Actually, that title should have been "US of A(utumn)", but then it just looked wrong using the British term when writing about the US. (U.S., if I'm being consistent in my AmericanEnglishness. Which I'm not. Of course.)Autumn/fall (okay, since I'm on the topic. "Fall" is a silly word. It means something else, people. Having it both as the name of a season and "to drop or come down freely under the influence of gravity" makes things unnecessary confusing. "That was a great fall!"). Autumn/fall is for me the season most closely tied with the United States. Partly, it's because when I was there, I experienced fall (of the seasonal and not gravital kind). I saw beautiful foliage in several parts of the country, I tasted fall specialties such as pumpkin pie or candy corn, and I witnessed stores decorate for the most American of holidays: Halloween and Thanksgiving. Even before I visited the US, however, it was firmly established that fall is the "national" season.
All these things considered, I don't think it's surprising that it is during this time of year I mostly want to go back. I want to celebrate Halloween, the American way (would you BELIEVE that I left the country the day before Halloween?!). I want to hang out with a stereotypical sit-com family that watch football on TV while mom cooks the turkey for Thanksgiving. I want to have more pumpkin pie (even though I didn't like it much). I want to walk along a Minnesota field while admiring the colourful forest ahead. I want to smell stuff like maple and cinnamon and other things comprised into "pumpkin spice" in a Starbucks latte.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
On tennis
Meet (probably Dwight) Porter. He is employed in the US State Department (and if it really is Dwight, he would later become the US ambassador to Lebanon). It is September, 1957. Porter has a tennis appointment, on Tuesday. This might be Tuesday 24 September, but more likely it is Tuesday 1 October. Porter is supposed to meet his tennis partner at 11:45 in the lobby of the “big building”.
This is what I know.
It is not specified which building it is, nor the name of the tennis partner, since he is the anonymous scribbler on the back of a document regarding US Near East policy. His little memo to self regarding a mundane (I assume) tennis appointment has been saved for all eternity in the State Department archives; and collected by a random, Norwegian researcher looking for something else entirely.
It is the time of the Edsel, a car that has recently been introduced to the American market. Porter does not yet know – no one does – that this car will become a symbol of failure. Perhaps porter bought an Edsel, perhaps he rode it to his tennis appointment.
It is the time of the Little Rock Crisis – where nine African American students were prevented from attending a racially segregated school in Arkansas. President Eisenhower intervened, and this is today considered to be a very important event in the history of the Civil Rights Movement. Perhaps Porter read about this in the paper the morning he went to play tennis, or perhaps he discussed it with his tennis partner.
Porter might have gone to New York a few days later. If he did, he might have seen a brand new Broadway show, called “West Side Story”. If he liked it, he might have guessed that it would become one of the world’s most famous musicals.
When I come across these personal interventions in the otherwise formal and professional documents it is difficult not to let the thoughts fly. The historical context gives endless opportunities for my imagination to weave a story for the anonymous men who all of a sudden become persons. Unfortunately, I can’t really afford to do so at the moment, since I have a deadline coming up. Blogging is about the last thing I have the time for.
So, this poor blog will once again have to be neglected for a while. I shall return. I promise. If nothing else, to report on (possibly Dwight) Porter. I’ll let you know if I find any further tennis appointments.
This is what I know.
It is not specified which building it is, nor the name of the tennis partner, since he is the anonymous scribbler on the back of a document regarding US Near East policy. His little memo to self regarding a mundane (I assume) tennis appointment has been saved for all eternity in the State Department archives; and collected by a random, Norwegian researcher looking for something else entirely.
It is the time of the Edsel, a car that has recently been introduced to the American market. Porter does not yet know – no one does – that this car will become a symbol of failure. Perhaps porter bought an Edsel, perhaps he rode it to his tennis appointment.
It is the time of the Little Rock Crisis – where nine African American students were prevented from attending a racially segregated school in Arkansas. President Eisenhower intervened, and this is today considered to be a very important event in the history of the Civil Rights Movement. Perhaps Porter read about this in the paper the morning he went to play tennis, or perhaps he discussed it with his tennis partner.
Porter might have gone to New York a few days later. If he did, he might have seen a brand new Broadway show, called “West Side Story”. If he liked it, he might have guessed that it would become one of the world’s most famous musicals.
When I come across these personal interventions in the otherwise formal and professional documents it is difficult not to let the thoughts fly. The historical context gives endless opportunities for my imagination to weave a story for the anonymous men who all of a sudden become persons. Unfortunately, I can’t really afford to do so at the moment, since I have a deadline coming up. Blogging is about the last thing I have the time for.
So, this poor blog will once again have to be neglected for a while. I shall return. I promise. If nothing else, to report on (possibly Dwight) Porter. I’ll let you know if I find any further tennis appointments.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
On VIP visits
Dear Mr. President,
A little under two months ago, both you and I woke up in Washington, D.C. (well, technically, I woke up in University Park, Maryland, but it’s pretty close) to a big surprise: the Norwegian Nobel Committee had chosen you to be this year’s laureate of the Nobel Peace Prize. I was astonished, to say the least, and judging from the speech you held a few hours later, so were you. That day I wrote a post on this very blog, where I commented on the committee’s decision, and expressed my views on it. I said then, and I still believe so, that even though I – like many others – wonder if awarding you the prize right now was a little early, there were some good reasons for choosing you at this time.
I also speculated on whether one of the less idealistic reasons was to make you come to Norway. If this at all was a consideration, the committee must be rubbing their hands together in glee, since your visit is scheduled to start tomorrow.
I can assure you that everything seems to be set. Norwegian newspapers have been packed with schedules, speculations and suggestions for weeks. Will he come, or will he prioritize Copenhagen? Will he spend the night? Will he spend more than one night? Will he stay with the royal family, or at a hotel? Will he be here for the concert or not? I’m guessing you have been blissfully unaware of just how much attention your short visit to Norway has gotten here. I’m fairly sure there still are other news stories out there, and they probably earn more space in the newspapers you normally read. Even the really serious Norwegian newspapers have felt like “Obama Social Times” lately.
But don’t worry – we’re thrilled to have you, of course. I went to the Nobel Institute today. I hear this is one of the places you’re scheduled to visit – to meet with the people who got you into this mess in the first place. I don’t know if you have mixed feelings about meeting the committee, but I’m sure you’ll have a good time. At least they seem to have prepared properly. They had lots of decorations up (in your honour, I can imagine), and trust me – the staff there is really friendly. If you get a chance, check out the library. It’s where I get lots of my books, and they let you keep them for the longest time (though they might be hesitant to letting you take them out of the country).
Oslo downtown also looks festive and ready to receive you. I saw them weld all the manhole covers the other day, so you can be assured that there will be no threats from below. I also heard that there will be extra planes stationed around the city, so I wouldn’t worry about threats from above either. Frankly, the biggest danger will probably be when meeting with the committee. I hear Geir Lundestad has a mean handshake.
Also, please don’t take any consideration of the kiosk chain (Narvesen) that exploits your visit in their newest advertisement campaign. Even though they have – for your convenience, no doubt – put the price of a cup of coffee in dollars on their posters and referred to how Clinton had a cup of coffee when he visited, this is not the coffee you want to buy (and it’s definitely not the coffee Clinton got). Trust me, it’s not good. We’ve a name for coffee like that in Norwegian – skvip – and there is better to be found. (From what I recall, Clinton got his coffee from Pascal – go there. They have wonderful cakes too.) Besides, when seeing it in dollars, it makes me realize that coffee (like everything else here) is ridiculously expensive. Not even the coffee places in your neighbourhood (and I should know, since that was where I got my coffee on my way to the office each morning) are that pricey. Besides, I far prefer that little Caribou on the corner of 17th and Pennsylvania to Narvesen any day!
Finally, I read in the Obama Social Times – sorry, I mean Aftenposten – today that the Oslo police force are sending out recommendations for how people should behave while you are here. I thought I should repeat a few of those points for you – after all, some of them might be useful for you as well (plus it might help explain some potential weird behavior that you otherwise might just think was “typically Norwegian”).
• Don’t close the curtains and make sure to have the light on if you have a view to the President (so if you’re seeing directly into someone’s fully lit, non-curtained bathroom, you’ll know this isn’t necessarily a flasher).
• Don’t look out of windows for longer amounts of time, don’t open windows and don’t take pictures (I’m not entirely sure if this also applies to you, but just in case you might want to make sure not to take any pictures from your hotel room).
• Don’t walk on the roof of any buildings close to the President (this I can’t quite understand why they are including. After all, you’re used to it. Every time I’ve walked by, there have been at least a couple pretty grumpy looking guys on the roof of your own house. Surely you wouldn’t mind a couple of fiddlers on the roof in Oslo too?).
• Don’t act suspiciously (well, this one is a given. The thing, though, is that people that really are up to no good also know this, so often it’s not the ones acting suspiciously that are the real problem. This is almost like having a box in US immigration forms asking whether you are being truthful in your answers. Oh, wait, you already have that box… Never mind…).
• Listen to the police and let them know if you see anything suspicious (but you have people helping you with that, don’t you?).
• Keep an eye on all your own belongings (this one definitely applies to you too. I’d make particularly sure that the medal is safe, seeing as it’s made of pure gold. There will be a lot of people on that award ceremony, and one can never be too careful, right?).
Keeping all this in mind, you should be pretty well prepared for a couple of days in Oslo. Too bad we don’t have any snow downtown yet. It really is much prettier then. Actually, you should consider coming back sometime, perhaps when you’re retired and have a little more time on your hands. You’re not getting a very accurate image of Norway this way. No mountains and only one fjord. You really ought to see the Western and Northern part of the country too. I recommend June.
Welcome to Oslo!
Yours truly,
Cruella Collett
A little under two months ago, both you and I woke up in Washington, D.C. (well, technically, I woke up in University Park, Maryland, but it’s pretty close) to a big surprise: the Norwegian Nobel Committee had chosen you to be this year’s laureate of the Nobel Peace Prize. I was astonished, to say the least, and judging from the speech you held a few hours later, so were you. That day I wrote a post on this very blog, where I commented on the committee’s decision, and expressed my views on it. I said then, and I still believe so, that even though I – like many others – wonder if awarding you the prize right now was a little early, there were some good reasons for choosing you at this time.
I also speculated on whether one of the less idealistic reasons was to make you come to Norway. If this at all was a consideration, the committee must be rubbing their hands together in glee, since your visit is scheduled to start tomorrow.
I can assure you that everything seems to be set. Norwegian newspapers have been packed with schedules, speculations and suggestions for weeks. Will he come, or will he prioritize Copenhagen? Will he spend the night? Will he spend more than one night? Will he stay with the royal family, or at a hotel? Will he be here for the concert or not? I’m guessing you have been blissfully unaware of just how much attention your short visit to Norway has gotten here. I’m fairly sure there still are other news stories out there, and they probably earn more space in the newspapers you normally read. Even the really serious Norwegian newspapers have felt like “Obama Social Times” lately.
But don’t worry – we’re thrilled to have you, of course. I went to the Nobel Institute today. I hear this is one of the places you’re scheduled to visit – to meet with the people who got you into this mess in the first place. I don’t know if you have mixed feelings about meeting the committee, but I’m sure you’ll have a good time. At least they seem to have prepared properly. They had lots of decorations up (in your honour, I can imagine), and trust me – the staff there is really friendly. If you get a chance, check out the library. It’s where I get lots of my books, and they let you keep them for the longest time (though they might be hesitant to letting you take them out of the country).
Oslo downtown also looks festive and ready to receive you. I saw them weld all the manhole covers the other day, so you can be assured that there will be no threats from below. I also heard that there will be extra planes stationed around the city, so I wouldn’t worry about threats from above either. Frankly, the biggest danger will probably be when meeting with the committee. I hear Geir Lundestad has a mean handshake.
Also, please don’t take any consideration of the kiosk chain (Narvesen) that exploits your visit in their newest advertisement campaign. Even though they have – for your convenience, no doubt – put the price of a cup of coffee in dollars on their posters and referred to how Clinton had a cup of coffee when he visited, this is not the coffee you want to buy (and it’s definitely not the coffee Clinton got). Trust me, it’s not good. We’ve a name for coffee like that in Norwegian – skvip – and there is better to be found. (From what I recall, Clinton got his coffee from Pascal – go there. They have wonderful cakes too.) Besides, when seeing it in dollars, it makes me realize that coffee (like everything else here) is ridiculously expensive. Not even the coffee places in your neighbourhood (and I should know, since that was where I got my coffee on my way to the office each morning) are that pricey. Besides, I far prefer that little Caribou on the corner of 17th and Pennsylvania to Narvesen any day!
Finally, I read in the Obama Social Times – sorry, I mean Aftenposten – today that the Oslo police force are sending out recommendations for how people should behave while you are here. I thought I should repeat a few of those points for you – after all, some of them might be useful for you as well (plus it might help explain some potential weird behavior that you otherwise might just think was “typically Norwegian”).
• Don’t close the curtains and make sure to have the light on if you have a view to the President (so if you’re seeing directly into someone’s fully lit, non-curtained bathroom, you’ll know this isn’t necessarily a flasher).
• Don’t look out of windows for longer amounts of time, don’t open windows and don’t take pictures (I’m not entirely sure if this also applies to you, but just in case you might want to make sure not to take any pictures from your hotel room).
• Don’t walk on the roof of any buildings close to the President (this I can’t quite understand why they are including. After all, you’re used to it. Every time I’ve walked by, there have been at least a couple pretty grumpy looking guys on the roof of your own house. Surely you wouldn’t mind a couple of fiddlers on the roof in Oslo too?).
• Don’t act suspiciously (well, this one is a given. The thing, though, is that people that really are up to no good also know this, so often it’s not the ones acting suspiciously that are the real problem. This is almost like having a box in US immigration forms asking whether you are being truthful in your answers. Oh, wait, you already have that box… Never mind…).
• Listen to the police and let them know if you see anything suspicious (but you have people helping you with that, don’t you?).
• Keep an eye on all your own belongings (this one definitely applies to you too. I’d make particularly sure that the medal is safe, seeing as it’s made of pure gold. There will be a lot of people on that award ceremony, and one can never be too careful, right?).
Keeping all this in mind, you should be pretty well prepared for a couple of days in Oslo. Too bad we don’t have any snow downtown yet. It really is much prettier then. Actually, you should consider coming back sometime, perhaps when you’re retired and have a little more time on your hands. You’re not getting a very accurate image of Norway this way. No mountains and only one fjord. You really ought to see the Western and Northern part of the country too. I recommend June.
Welcome to Oslo!
Yours truly,
Cruella Collett
Monday, October 26, 2009
On leaving things behind
I’m getting started packing early this time around. When I left for the U.S., I booked my flight only a week prior to departure, and I packed my suitcases the night before I left. It was unintentional and stressful, but not a terribly big risk. After all, if I forgot to bring something along, it would hardly be the end of the world – it would either mean that I had to live without it for three months, or I would have to buy a replacement when I arrived. Packing to go back, however, is a little different. Anything I don’t find a place for or forget will have to be left behind.
This inevitably makes me think of the things I have to leave behind, whether I like it or not. I might be able to fit my new clothes, shoes and books in my luggage (and I also plan on sending a box per mail), but there are things I will miss that I cannot bring along. This close to my departure, it’s becoming very clear to me that there are a number of things I wish I did not have to leave when leaving.
10 things I will miss when I leave the USA
1. Linda, Brian, Nick, Sam, Kenny, Tina and Precious. (Technically they are 7 different “things”, but that would make a short and boring list…) The people (and people-like animals) that took me into their home, generously treated me like a family member and have been great company for me these past months certainly are the number one on this list. My stay in the U.S. would have been a lot less fulfilling without them. I will be really sorry to say goodbye to them, but I do hope that we’ll be able to keep in touch (and they are more than welcome to visit me in Norway).
2. The trees. The tall, green, wonderful, amazing, lovely trees. Trees that have nuts in them, and squirrels, and vines climbing up the stem. Those trees.
3. Washington, D.C. It’s a lovely city, and I don’t expect to see it again anytime soon. I’ll miss the possibility of going to a Smithsonian if I feel like it, or seeing one of them many monuments. I’ll miss walking up and down the mall, and I’ll the numbered streets with the impressive, power-shouting buildings along them. Hing, I’ll even miss the metro!
4. The crazily grand selection of everything candy, snacks and food. And the freedom of knowing I only have three months to try them all, so I don’t have to put the normal restraints on myself.
5. Shopping. The selection is better, everything is cheaper and no one cares if you’re carrying your coffee around. (Actually, I’m glad this isn’t as common at home yet. Working in a store and all…)
6. Speaking of coffee… Starbucks. It’s about time Norway joins the club of developed countries and imports Starbucks! We need Starbucks! Why don’t we have it? (I miss you already!)
7. Borders. And Barnes & Noble. And Borders. And Barnes & Noble.
8. Television. There is ALWAYS something on here. Always. And the shows run at least a season ahead of those at home. It makes me want to cry just to know that I won’t be able to see the rest of the season of “Glee”. I’m NOT going to miss all the commercials, though.
9. Having an office four blocks from the White House. I might not have used said office all that much, and the actual location might not have mattered that much either, but man – how awesome it feels to be able to say that!
10. Living in a foreign country. It is not given that this is something I will do again (though I hope I’ll have the chance). Weighing positive and negative factors of spending time abroad – the latter mainly being what I miss from home – the positive in my opinion outweighs the negative. When you live in a foreign country you stumble across a lot of situations you never would have at home. You meet people and you get to experience cultures that teach you more than what you could ever read in a book. You grow as a person, and when you do return home, you find yourself both appreciating what you do have more, while at the same time you’re able to enrich your life there with the experiences and memories from abroad.
I will miss all of the above. As mentioned these are things I cannot bring back home. What I will bring, though (at the risk of sounding awfully sappy), are the memories of all of these (and more) things I have experienced. Fortunately, I don’t have to fit the memories in my suitcase…
This inevitably makes me think of the things I have to leave behind, whether I like it or not. I might be able to fit my new clothes, shoes and books in my luggage (and I also plan on sending a box per mail), but there are things I will miss that I cannot bring along. This close to my departure, it’s becoming very clear to me that there are a number of things I wish I did not have to leave when leaving.
10 things I will miss when I leave the USA
1. Linda, Brian, Nick, Sam, Kenny, Tina and Precious. (Technically they are 7 different “things”, but that would make a short and boring list…) The people (and people-like animals) that took me into their home, generously treated me like a family member and have been great company for me these past months certainly are the number one on this list. My stay in the U.S. would have been a lot less fulfilling without them. I will be really sorry to say goodbye to them, but I do hope that we’ll be able to keep in touch (and they are more than welcome to visit me in Norway).
2. The trees. The tall, green, wonderful, amazing, lovely trees. Trees that have nuts in them, and squirrels, and vines climbing up the stem. Those trees.
3. Washington, D.C. It’s a lovely city, and I don’t expect to see it again anytime soon. I’ll miss the possibility of going to a Smithsonian if I feel like it, or seeing one of them many monuments. I’ll miss walking up and down the mall, and I’ll the numbered streets with the impressive, power-shouting buildings along them. Hing, I’ll even miss the metro!
4. The crazily grand selection of everything candy, snacks and food. And the freedom of knowing I only have three months to try them all, so I don’t have to put the normal restraints on myself.
5. Shopping. The selection is better, everything is cheaper and no one cares if you’re carrying your coffee around. (Actually, I’m glad this isn’t as common at home yet. Working in a store and all…)
6. Speaking of coffee… Starbucks. It’s about time Norway joins the club of developed countries and imports Starbucks! We need Starbucks! Why don’t we have it? (I miss you already!)
7. Borders. And Barnes & Noble. And Borders. And Barnes & Noble.
8. Television. There is ALWAYS something on here. Always. And the shows run at least a season ahead of those at home. It makes me want to cry just to know that I won’t be able to see the rest of the season of “Glee”. I’m NOT going to miss all the commercials, though.
9. Having an office four blocks from the White House. I might not have used said office all that much, and the actual location might not have mattered that much either, but man – how awesome it feels to be able to say that!
10. Living in a foreign country. It is not given that this is something I will do again (though I hope I’ll have the chance). Weighing positive and negative factors of spending time abroad – the latter mainly being what I miss from home – the positive in my opinion outweighs the negative. When you live in a foreign country you stumble across a lot of situations you never would have at home. You meet people and you get to experience cultures that teach you more than what you could ever read in a book. You grow as a person, and when you do return home, you find yourself both appreciating what you do have more, while at the same time you’re able to enrich your life there with the experiences and memories from abroad.
I will miss all of the above. As mentioned these are things I cannot bring back home. What I will bring, though (at the risk of sounding awfully sappy), are the memories of all of these (and more) things I have experienced. Fortunately, I don’t have to fit the memories in my suitcase…
Friday, October 23, 2009
On focusing on the RIGHT thing
It’s often easier to focus on what one misses out on than what one actually does or accomplishes. The famous last words (of someone smart, I am sure) “I only regret what I didn’t do” says it all – in hindsight it is not the paths we walked, but those we didn’t get to explore that haunt us.
Having now spent close to three months in the USA, I find myself discovering new things every day that I “should have done”, while I frantically try to utilize my last week here. Naturally I want to make sure I don’t miss out too much, but at the same time, it is important to take a step back and consider all the things I have done. Counting accomplishments and experiences I find plenty, both on a professional and on a personal level (and I am sure several other levels as well).
• I have successfully gathered plenty of sources for my master’s thesis. Sure, I could have done more, I could have consulted other resources and I could have been more efficient at doing so, but in all probability what I now have already exceeds the limitations of my thesis. It will simply have to do.
• I have spent (less than desired, yet some) time at my office in the heart of Washington, D.C. I may not have struck gold there, but it’s been a nice experience nevertheless. The walk to and from the metro each morning and afternoon among suits and motorcades, passing the buildings where the fate of the world is determined, makes it worth the effort alone.
• I have met a lot of interesting people. This includes some good, old friends; some good, new friends; random discussion partners; friendly passersby; and president Obama (the last is a joke. I haven’t met him, even if my office is only a few blocks away from his).
• I have gotten to see a new part of the world, a new country, and several parts of that country. The USA is no longer a vague mix of impressions from movies, books and television. I’ve had expectations and prejudices both confirmed and contradicted, and in total I can say with my heart that when I return to Norway it will be with a wider understanding of the USA and the people living here.
• I have been able to explore one of the world’s most interesting cities (says the history/international relations geek), something I’ve been wanting to do for years. There is of course plenty left to see, but no one visits all the museums when sightseeing here, right?
• I have made some potential contacts in terms of networking, in several respects (meaning both personal, professional and blog ones – the blog ones being something in between). And speaking of blogging…
• I have blogged almost every single day since I started in August (wee!). It has become a habit of sorts, and even if I am not sure I will continue blogging every day once October (NaBloWriMo) is done, I intend to keep the blog up also after I go home.
• I have contributed to http://www.onemilliongiraffes.com/ with 100+ giraffes (with more to come). Just another friendly reminder to check out the project and make one of your own ;)
• I have successfully managed to survive my second longer stay in a foreign country, all on my own, before I am 24 (my 24th birthday is coming up just after I land in Norway). It is a test of sorts to be far away from your home, your family and friends, in a foreign culture, speaking a foreign language; and I believe I’ve passed.
In the long run I am determined that these are the points I will remember. I refuse to allow myself to regret what I didn’t do, because what I did do was also significant. So all in all, it doesn’t matter if I wasn’t a social butterfly or that I probably haven’t made connections that someday will make me Secretary General of the United Nations. I’ve grown as a person with this stay, and that is more important than what I possibly missed. Finally, if I should discover that the things I did miss were significant, there should be plenty of opportunities in the future to come back.
Having now spent close to three months in the USA, I find myself discovering new things every day that I “should have done”, while I frantically try to utilize my last week here. Naturally I want to make sure I don’t miss out too much, but at the same time, it is important to take a step back and consider all the things I have done. Counting accomplishments and experiences I find plenty, both on a professional and on a personal level (and I am sure several other levels as well).
• I have successfully gathered plenty of sources for my master’s thesis. Sure, I could have done more, I could have consulted other resources and I could have been more efficient at doing so, but in all probability what I now have already exceeds the limitations of my thesis. It will simply have to do.
• I have spent (less than desired, yet some) time at my office in the heart of Washington, D.C. I may not have struck gold there, but it’s been a nice experience nevertheless. The walk to and from the metro each morning and afternoon among suits and motorcades, passing the buildings where the fate of the world is determined, makes it worth the effort alone.
• I have met a lot of interesting people. This includes some good, old friends; some good, new friends; random discussion partners; friendly passersby; and president Obama (the last is a joke. I haven’t met him, even if my office is only a few blocks away from his).
• I have gotten to see a new part of the world, a new country, and several parts of that country. The USA is no longer a vague mix of impressions from movies, books and television. I’ve had expectations and prejudices both confirmed and contradicted, and in total I can say with my heart that when I return to Norway it will be with a wider understanding of the USA and the people living here.
• I have been able to explore one of the world’s most interesting cities (says the history/international relations geek), something I’ve been wanting to do for years. There is of course plenty left to see, but no one visits all the museums when sightseeing here, right?
• I have made some potential contacts in terms of networking, in several respects (meaning both personal, professional and blog ones – the blog ones being something in between). And speaking of blogging…
• I have blogged almost every single day since I started in August (wee!). It has become a habit of sorts, and even if I am not sure I will continue blogging every day once October (NaBloWriMo) is done, I intend to keep the blog up also after I go home.
• I have contributed to http://www.onemilliongiraffes.com/ with 100+ giraffes (with more to come). Just another friendly reminder to check out the project and make one of your own ;)
• I have successfully managed to survive my second longer stay in a foreign country, all on my own, before I am 24 (my 24th birthday is coming up just after I land in Norway). It is a test of sorts to be far away from your home, your family and friends, in a foreign culture, speaking a foreign language; and I believe I’ve passed.
In the long run I am determined that these are the points I will remember. I refuse to allow myself to regret what I didn’t do, because what I did do was also significant. So all in all, it doesn’t matter if I wasn’t a social butterfly or that I probably haven’t made connections that someday will make me Secretary General of the United Nations. I’ve grown as a person with this stay, and that is more important than what I possibly missed. Finally, if I should discover that the things I did miss were significant, there should be plenty of opportunities in the future to come back.
The Jefferson memorial - taken on my (for now) final sightseeing in Washington, D.C.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
On a pedestrian's agonies
Even though I do have a driver’s license, I don’t have a car. At home I rarely need to drive (and even more seldom do I want to). Therefore, to make absolutely sure I wouldn’t have to drive in the US, I left my license at home. Of which I am happy. However – and I knew this before I left – it can be a pain to not have a car in the US. (I sense a lot of rolling eyes.) Because when you don’t have a car, you’re either left to explore whatever public transportation your area can offer (and it isn’t always a given that there is any), or, you’re stuck with what you were born with: your legs.
So I walk. I walk to the metro station, I walk to the grocery shop, and I walk to the ruddy archive. I like to walk. It is my transportation of preference at home too. But the experience of walking is slightly different here than at home. As long as you’re in the city, you’re fine. D.C. is a pedestrian’s city in many respects (one-way streets, parking challenges and an easily navigatable metro system being excellent reasons for leaving your car at home). It’s when you stray out of city limits you face the real problems.
First of all – the roads are so much bigger than at home (I’ve yet to see one that in Norway wouldn’t be defined as “highway”...), and everything is adjusted to the driver’s need, not the pedestrians’. Pedestrian crossings are few, they are only occasionally regulated by lights, and if so, these lights only stop traffic for a few seconds. I walk relatively fast, but more than once I’ve found it difficult to cross the street on time. I wonder how an old lady with a cane would manage?
Secondly, when walking you’re free game. It appears that the drivers consider me part of the roadside entertainment. At home, I have never, ever, been honked at. Ever. Here, it appears that is common. Am I wearing a bumper sticker that says “Honk if you’re horny?” No! And yes, I did notice that you checked my “bumper” just to make sure… I don’t know if it is my striking beauty and obvious charm, but I have a feeling that it’s not. Just because I’m there, walking, doesn’t mean you have to eat me up with your eyes!
Some don’t even stop there. Again, at home I have never been randomly offered a ride from a stranger (unless you count the time I was eight... It sounds worse than it is. Long story...)*. Here, it happened three times during my first month. How stupid do they think I am? I might be blond and blue-eyed, I might look (and be) naïve, but seriously – I don’t accept rides from strangers! I could have been walking with broken legs and a concussion, and I would still have turned down the offer to take a ride from a stranger. (Call it Norwegian tight-assedness, call it healthy scepticism, call it a principle. Not gonna affect my firm belief that I am safer sticking to it as a rule.)
Finally, (and I realize this isn’t a U.S. thing – this is more a me-thing,) when you’re walking carrying your camera (which I have been doing a lot – my camera having been my tool of choice for my archive work, and when I’ve been touristing about I also brought it along), you stand at risk of creating the strangest situations. I have mentioned some already (my SWAT encounter, my near-death tree photographic episode and of course the squirrels, the show-offs). But in addition, let me tell you a little story. This happened about a month ago, when I was, as usual, walking home from the archive. It was a beautiful day – the sun was about to set, but it was still light out. Suddenly I saw a big bird sitting at the top of a building. It looked an awful lot like an owl, but since it was daytime, I doubted this could be it. Cautiously, I approached it, camera ready. When I got close enough to see that, yes, it definitely was an owl, I snapped a shot just to make sure I had this documented. As the bird did not appear to be scared at all, however, I went even closer to get a better shot.
This was when I realized why it didn’t move. It was made of plastic.
Needless to say, I put my camera back in my bag and left quite quickly. The owl, I believe, is still there.
So I walk. I walk to the metro station, I walk to the grocery shop, and I walk to the ruddy archive. I like to walk. It is my transportation of preference at home too. But the experience of walking is slightly different here than at home. As long as you’re in the city, you’re fine. D.C. is a pedestrian’s city in many respects (one-way streets, parking challenges and an easily navigatable metro system being excellent reasons for leaving your car at home). It’s when you stray out of city limits you face the real problems.
First of all – the roads are so much bigger than at home (I’ve yet to see one that in Norway wouldn’t be defined as “highway”...), and everything is adjusted to the driver’s need, not the pedestrians’. Pedestrian crossings are few, they are only occasionally regulated by lights, and if so, these lights only stop traffic for a few seconds. I walk relatively fast, but more than once I’ve found it difficult to cross the street on time. I wonder how an old lady with a cane would manage?
Secondly, when walking you’re free game. It appears that the drivers consider me part of the roadside entertainment. At home, I have never, ever, been honked at. Ever. Here, it appears that is common. Am I wearing a bumper sticker that says “Honk if you’re horny?” No! And yes, I did notice that you checked my “bumper” just to make sure… I don’t know if it is my striking beauty and obvious charm, but I have a feeling that it’s not. Just because I’m there, walking, doesn’t mean you have to eat me up with your eyes!
Some don’t even stop there. Again, at home I have never been randomly offered a ride from a stranger (unless you count the time I was eight... It sounds worse than it is. Long story...)*. Here, it happened three times during my first month. How stupid do they think I am? I might be blond and blue-eyed, I might look (and be) naïve, but seriously – I don’t accept rides from strangers! I could have been walking with broken legs and a concussion, and I would still have turned down the offer to take a ride from a stranger. (Call it Norwegian tight-assedness, call it healthy scepticism, call it a principle. Not gonna affect my firm belief that I am safer sticking to it as a rule.)
Finally, (and I realize this isn’t a U.S. thing – this is more a me-thing,) when you’re walking carrying your camera (which I have been doing a lot – my camera having been my tool of choice for my archive work, and when I’ve been touristing about I also brought it along), you stand at risk of creating the strangest situations. I have mentioned some already (my SWAT encounter, my near-death tree photographic episode and of course the squirrels, the show-offs). But in addition, let me tell you a little story. This happened about a month ago, when I was, as usual, walking home from the archive. It was a beautiful day – the sun was about to set, but it was still light out. Suddenly I saw a big bird sitting at the top of a building. It looked an awful lot like an owl, but since it was daytime, I doubted this could be it. Cautiously, I approached it, camera ready. When I got close enough to see that, yes, it definitely was an owl, I snapped a shot just to make sure I had this documented. As the bird did not appear to be scared at all, however, I went even closer to get a better shot.
This was when I realized why it didn’t move. It was made of plastic.
Needless to say, I put my camera back in my bag and left quite quickly. The owl, I believe, is still there.
* Just because I know someone or other is bound to ask... When I was eight years old, I was accidentally abducted by a misguided bureaucrat. This was May 17th (Norway’s Constitutional Day, in case you haven’t been at the receiving end of my propagandic raving about it before), and a TV-team wanted an interview with the little girl who had held the traditional speech at City Hall (yes, I held speeches at age eight. Don’t even get me started at my career in public speaking. That definitely merits a post of its own sometime...). My kidnapper, who worked for the local municipality, was just doing his job, but he chose a very bad way of doing it. He basically tracked me down in the children’s parade, told me I would get to be on TV if I came with him, and since I was eight and didn’t know better, I did. When my teacher turned around to find me gone, she asked my classmates what had happened. I am fairly sure the reply “she went with a man in a car” didn’t make her feel too happy, but apart from the simultaneous near-heart attacks of her, my mom and my dad, nothing bad happened that day. I have, however, learned better since.
Friday, October 16, 2009
On networking and not working
I could have sworn I scheduled my blog to post as usual this morning. But then I discovered that it didn’t. Don’t know how that happened, but since it was a sorry excuse for a blog post anyway, I don’t really mind that it got lost (it’s not really lost, it’s all there in “drafts”, but it’s not worth reviving. Trust me). Luckily I stopped by before midnight, so I won’t miss a day in the ongoing NoBloWriMo challenge… Anyway, what I did say in the lost blog post is that I’m back from my Midwestern adventure. I had a splendid time – in fact, so splendid that I didn’t remotely miss the fact that I had limited online time for a week and I was completely cut off the entire weekend. I would not even dream of trying to tell even a fraction of everything I’ve seen, experienced and done – it’s all reserved for multiple blog posts to come (and there will be pictures!). In addition, I’ve had time to mold over some follow ups to some of my previous blog posts (alright, one of them – the Nobel Prize again occupies my attention – will get back to that later, NOT tonight). In short, I’ve got plenty of blog material for the days to come. Further, my time in the US is rapidly coming to an end – soon the time will come to reflect over how I feel about leaving (and more importantly, how I feel about returning home). I also have some catching up to do on some comments and such – so I believe the forecasted rain this weekend is welcome.
However, if you thought I returned to a nice and quiet start of the weekend here, you were wrong. Today I’ve been at a conference all day. Basically, this was just the sort of thing I pictured myself doing when I first set my mind to go to Washington. Networking. Academic, interdisciplinary interaction. Get input that in turn will help me form new perspectives and angles on my thesis.
Today’s conference was arranged by PARC (the Palestinian American Research Center) and IMES, the Center for Middle East Studies at George Washington University. Even though I am technically affiliated with GWU’s IERES (Eurasian Studies), I am on the mailing list for IMES, and today’s event allowed me to mingle with the right kind of people, since I, after all, am not working with Eurasian questions. (Long story short – IERES has the visiting scholar program, and one of my professors knows the head of IERES. Networking pays off.) The subject for the conference was scholarship on Palestine, showing where today’s research on Palestine in numerous disciplines stands. Interestingly, the conference was very academical, but not particularly political (which is quite unusual considering the subject). On the other hand, it can be argued that most of the participants probably had similar views on the subject matter (supporting this is the fact that there are enough people out there who would not even consider attending a conference about Palestine, since the word Palestine implies a certain bias in the ongoing struggle. This may be the case, but I’ve come to accept that when your field is the Middle East, no matter your discipline, you have to learn how to deal with bias because there is no escaping it). I’ll avoid details, but let me just say that the conference was extraordinarily interesting and fruitful, and I am very happy I convinced myself to go (even though I could have used some time off after my vacation). I am sure it will be a great inspiration to me when I over the weekend get back to working on my thesis.
Thus, academically the conference paid off (though technically I didn’t pay anything at all. I don’t know if it was because I’m with GWU or if the same applies to all participants, but they didn’t charge a dime. So not only did I get free academic inspiration, I got free breakfast, lunch and dinner. They don’t treat scholars this well in Norway). On the networking part, though, I don’t know. I know that for many bloggers, especially the aspiring writers of us, networking is a key component. It can be tricky in blog form, but personally I prefer that to the real deal – speaking to complete strangers about the weather or the food in hope that at some point during the conversation it will come up that they can offer you the job of your dreams and that they are willing to take your card. Add to that speaking in a foreign language, the fact that you’ve just spent 7 hours in deep concentration and that you don’t actually have a card – it’s exhausting!
It wasn’t a huge success. Granted, I did get someone’s card. I did give out my email address to a couple of people. And I had an interesting epiphany when it turned out the lady next to me worked for the US Air Force as part of their team to train and prepare soldiers for what they might expect on foreign soil. It does reassure me to know that the scholarly developments is taken seriously by people in power, because of the implications this has both for the academia and for the air force. Also, it opens up a whole new range of job opportunities I had not thought of before.
(Wow – I’m really rambling now. It is also technically over midnight, but I’m ignoring that, since I a) acted in good faith thinking I had already posted; and b) can argue that I am still on Minnesota time.)
By the time of the banquet – which was a somewhat fancy affair with great food and lots of wine – I was extremely tired and fed up with the networking. I grabbed some food and had a quick drink, and I was out of there before anyone had the chance to say “business card”. I might do some follow-ups (one of the really eager ones actually already emailed me, so there are clearly possibilities), but all in all I was happy to let this be the extent of networking I did today. After all, I’m new to it. I’m still learning. And it is more important that I went to the event, and that I tried, than whether I actually succeed.
At this point I should have drawn a clever parallel to blogging and how it also there is more important that I am trying at all than whether I actually succeed, but I am not making sense as it is, and I am inclined to post this before I get cold feet (colder feet, actually, since they’re already freezing. It got cold in Maryland while I was away) and proofread or some such silliness.
Therefore I bid you goodnight, at 11:09 pm Minnesota time.
(In case you were wondering - I had an intention with that clever title of mine, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was. The "networking" part is pretty evident, the "not working" - not so much. Maybe it refers to my brain, which currently seems to not be working. I think I just feel asleep in the middle of a sentence... Time to hit the sack!)
However, if you thought I returned to a nice and quiet start of the weekend here, you were wrong. Today I’ve been at a conference all day. Basically, this was just the sort of thing I pictured myself doing when I first set my mind to go to Washington. Networking. Academic, interdisciplinary interaction. Get input that in turn will help me form new perspectives and angles on my thesis.
Today’s conference was arranged by PARC (the Palestinian American Research Center) and IMES, the Center for Middle East Studies at George Washington University. Even though I am technically affiliated with GWU’s IERES (Eurasian Studies), I am on the mailing list for IMES, and today’s event allowed me to mingle with the right kind of people, since I, after all, am not working with Eurasian questions. (Long story short – IERES has the visiting scholar program, and one of my professors knows the head of IERES. Networking pays off.) The subject for the conference was scholarship on Palestine, showing where today’s research on Palestine in numerous disciplines stands. Interestingly, the conference was very academical, but not particularly political (which is quite unusual considering the subject). On the other hand, it can be argued that most of the participants probably had similar views on the subject matter (supporting this is the fact that there are enough people out there who would not even consider attending a conference about Palestine, since the word Palestine implies a certain bias in the ongoing struggle. This may be the case, but I’ve come to accept that when your field is the Middle East, no matter your discipline, you have to learn how to deal with bias because there is no escaping it). I’ll avoid details, but let me just say that the conference was extraordinarily interesting and fruitful, and I am very happy I convinced myself to go (even though I could have used some time off after my vacation). I am sure it will be a great inspiration to me when I over the weekend get back to working on my thesis.
Thus, academically the conference paid off (though technically I didn’t pay anything at all. I don’t know if it was because I’m with GWU or if the same applies to all participants, but they didn’t charge a dime. So not only did I get free academic inspiration, I got free breakfast, lunch and dinner. They don’t treat scholars this well in Norway). On the networking part, though, I don’t know. I know that for many bloggers, especially the aspiring writers of us, networking is a key component. It can be tricky in blog form, but personally I prefer that to the real deal – speaking to complete strangers about the weather or the food in hope that at some point during the conversation it will come up that they can offer you the job of your dreams and that they are willing to take your card. Add to that speaking in a foreign language, the fact that you’ve just spent 7 hours in deep concentration and that you don’t actually have a card – it’s exhausting!
It wasn’t a huge success. Granted, I did get someone’s card. I did give out my email address to a couple of people. And I had an interesting epiphany when it turned out the lady next to me worked for the US Air Force as part of their team to train and prepare soldiers for what they might expect on foreign soil. It does reassure me to know that the scholarly developments is taken seriously by people in power, because of the implications this has both for the academia and for the air force. Also, it opens up a whole new range of job opportunities I had not thought of before.
(Wow – I’m really rambling now. It is also technically over midnight, but I’m ignoring that, since I a) acted in good faith thinking I had already posted; and b) can argue that I am still on Minnesota time.)
By the time of the banquet – which was a somewhat fancy affair with great food and lots of wine – I was extremely tired and fed up with the networking. I grabbed some food and had a quick drink, and I was out of there before anyone had the chance to say “business card”. I might do some follow-ups (one of the really eager ones actually already emailed me, so there are clearly possibilities), but all in all I was happy to let this be the extent of networking I did today. After all, I’m new to it. I’m still learning. And it is more important that I went to the event, and that I tried, than whether I actually succeed.
At this point I should have drawn a clever parallel to blogging and how it also there is more important that I am trying at all than whether I actually succeed, but I am not making sense as it is, and I am inclined to post this before I get cold feet (colder feet, actually, since they’re already freezing. It got cold in Maryland while I was away) and proofread or some such silliness.
Therefore I bid you goodnight, at 11:09 pm Minnesota time.
(In case you were wondering - I had an intention with that clever title of mine, but I cannot for the life of me remember what it was. The "networking" part is pretty evident, the "not working" - not so much. Maybe it refers to my brain, which currently seems to not be working. I think I just feel asleep in the middle of a sentence... Time to hit the sack!)
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
On SWAT
Dude! I saw a SWAT team! (I was going to add “today”, but then I felt bad about lying. Actually, I saw it more than a week ago, when I went downtown for the National Book Festival), but I figured that the festival required a post of its own, so I cynically decided to save the SWAT for later.) The SWAT sighting was complete with coppers dressed in black, doing formations on the top of an armoured car. It was pretty neat! I’ve no idea why they were SWATting, of course. It looked like an official building, with the entire street closed off. It could have been a rehearsal (seeing as it was a Saturday morning and all). People around looked at them wondering what was going on. Some were even rude enough to take pictures...!
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SWAT teams to me equal cool effect in American movies. It almost came as a shock to realize that they exist in reality. But come to think about it, D.C. is the one place I can think of that would constitute a natural habitat for SWAT teams (I just love typing SWAT!). It’s the capital of the US (or, as it’s often referred to, “ the capital of the free world”. I’m not going into that discussion). It’s also where most government agencies, such as the FBI, the CIA (well, technically that is in Virginia), Pentagon (also Virginia) have their headquarters. It’s where you find the White House, Capitol and other buildings that are significant in this country and beyond. If there ever was a place that needed the somewhat frantic protection a SWAT team can offer, D.C. is it.
However, one might wonder what it is a SWAT team actually does. Aside from the blackness of their costumes and the really big guns, what is the difference between a SWAT team and a well trained cheerleading troop? From my experience, the main difference lies in the fact that while the prime goal of a cheerleading troop is to entertain and make their audience cheer; the SWAT team’s purpose is to make their audience curious. At least this is how it looked. People were swarming around the closed-off street, hoping to see something exciting (possibly a human pyramid). Cars were slowing down, driving off the road, crashing into one another – but no one cared, because they were all so fascinated by the SWATters.
Nothing interesting happened, of course. After I had snapped my picture, I was eager to get away before someone had the bright idea to confiscate my camera, so if the SWAT team actually entered the building, I missed it. There was no explosion or gunshot, though, and the ten o’clock news only featured stories of swine flu and car accidents (completely unrelated).
It was nice, though, to see that they really exist. Now I’m waiting for King Kong or Godzilla to materialize.
SWAT teams to me equal cool effect in American movies. It almost came as a shock to realize that they exist in reality. But come to think about it, D.C. is the one place I can think of that would constitute a natural habitat for SWAT teams (I just love typing SWAT!). It’s the capital of the US (or, as it’s often referred to, “ the capital of the free world”. I’m not going into that discussion). It’s also where most government agencies, such as the FBI, the CIA (well, technically that is in Virginia), Pentagon (also Virginia) have their headquarters. It’s where you find the White House, Capitol and other buildings that are significant in this country and beyond. If there ever was a place that needed the somewhat frantic protection a SWAT team can offer, D.C. is it.
However, one might wonder what it is a SWAT team actually does. Aside from the blackness of their costumes and the really big guns, what is the difference between a SWAT team and a well trained cheerleading troop? From my experience, the main difference lies in the fact that while the prime goal of a cheerleading troop is to entertain and make their audience cheer; the SWAT team’s purpose is to make their audience curious. At least this is how it looked. People were swarming around the closed-off street, hoping to see something exciting (possibly a human pyramid). Cars were slowing down, driving off the road, crashing into one another – but no one cared, because they were all so fascinated by the SWATters.
Nothing interesting happened, of course. After I had snapped my picture, I was eager to get away before someone had the bright idea to confiscate my camera, so if the SWAT team actually entered the building, I missed it. There was no explosion or gunshot, though, and the ten o’clock news only featured stories of swine flu and car accidents (completely unrelated).
It was nice, though, to see that they really exist. Now I’m waiting for King Kong or Godzilla to materialize.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
On intentions and interventions
Consider yourselves ditched. I got up early this morning, ready to write a blog (before doing lots of tedious stuff like laundry), but then a neighbour reminded me of something I had completely forgotten about in my frantic attempts to finally finish my archive work this week (with success – yay me!). Today was the date the National Book Festival took place in Washington, D.C. I saw posters for this in the beginning of my stay here, and I always meant to go, but since it wouldn’t take place until the end of September – two thirds into my extremely long stay in America – I filed it away at the back of my brain. All of a sudden, two months have passed. It feels unreal that I only have one month left before I go back home. Needless to say, I ditched writing my blog this morning because I went to the festival instead.
[Short side note – I’m writing this while watching Finding Nemo for the millionth time – and I’m now at the part where Marlin is riding with the sea turtles. I adore those creatures. Oh, and the seagulls! Dude, I’ve got to stop commenting before I end up writing a movie review rather than a National Book Festival blog]
The festival took place at the National Mall, and it featured an impressive number of famous authors either speaking, signing or both. According to the poster, the festival was free and open to the public. This was the main problem with the arrangement. Since I had forgotten about it, I hadn’t planned well enough to be able to leave the house particularly early, so I wasn’t in D.C. until about noon. The festival started at 10 am, and in those two hours a significant crowd had managed to gather. There were people everywhere: standing in lines to buy books; standing in lines to get to hear some interesting author speak about some interesting topic; standing in lines to get in the lines to have their books signed. Just as I was about to make up my mind if it was worth getting in one of those lines, I felt the first few raindrops.
[“Just keep swimming!”]
I decided it wasn’t worth it. I had even brought a book I recently read and liked (The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao) to potentially have it signed by the author (Junot Diaz), but as his line was insanely long, I settled for having seen him from afar and wandered on. I got a free tote bag, I saw John Grisham (also from afar) and I left the mall. Instead, I figured I might have my own personal book festival in one of the big downtown bookshops. I was, after all, feeling some considerable withdrawal symptoms since it had been a full week since I last visited a bookshop.
I believe I have previously touched upon my at times nonexistent sense of direction. Today, however, I surprised even myself. Washington, like any citiy where there streets are numbered in one direction, and alphabetized in the other, should be relatively easy to navigate. Considering this, and the fact that I have walked quite a bit in Washington during these two months, I felt confident enough that I didn’t even bring a map. To illustrate just how sure I felt that I knew my way around, let me give you a direct quote from myself, approximately one and a half month ago: “I love walking in D.C.! It’s like impossible to get lost!” No need to go hungry – I’ve got words to eat…
I knew where I was going, and I knew how to get there. And I still managed to walk in the opposite direction – twice! How that is possible – since the opposite of the opposite direction ought to have been the right direction – is beyond me, but all I know is that I ended up almost falling into the Chesapeake Bay. Twice.
[“I speak whale!”]
Luckily I was able to retrace my steps, get on the right side of the mall, find the bookshop (once I walked in the right direction it was easy), and indulge in the pleasures a combined coffee-, book-, CD- and DVD-shop offers.
One final weird thing happened to me today. It’s not just a small world, it’s a tiny one. In that crowd of thousands of booklover, whom did I see other than one of my fellow researchers from the archive? That is, ex-fellow. As mentioned, I now consider myself done, finito, never goin’ back (well, never say never, but at least I don’t intend to spend every waking moment there anymore. I’ve got what I need. I hope). I figured it was about time to leave when several staff members now not only had memorized my name, but also were able to pronounce it properly. Who knows, maybe sending one of the researchers after me was the archive’s way of saying goodbye?
[Nemo and dad are happily reunited, so I think this is also my cue to say bye-bye for the night]
[Short side note – I’m writing this while watching Finding Nemo for the millionth time – and I’m now at the part where Marlin is riding with the sea turtles. I adore those creatures. Oh, and the seagulls! Dude, I’ve got to stop commenting before I end up writing a movie review rather than a National Book Festival blog]
The festival took place at the National Mall, and it featured an impressive number of famous authors either speaking, signing or both. According to the poster, the festival was free and open to the public. This was the main problem with the arrangement. Since I had forgotten about it, I hadn’t planned well enough to be able to leave the house particularly early, so I wasn’t in D.C. until about noon. The festival started at 10 am, and in those two hours a significant crowd had managed to gather. There were people everywhere: standing in lines to buy books; standing in lines to get to hear some interesting author speak about some interesting topic; standing in lines to get in the lines to have their books signed. Just as I was about to make up my mind if it was worth getting in one of those lines, I felt the first few raindrops.
[“Just keep swimming!”]
I decided it wasn’t worth it. I had even brought a book I recently read and liked (The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao) to potentially have it signed by the author (Junot Diaz), but as his line was insanely long, I settled for having seen him from afar and wandered on. I got a free tote bag, I saw John Grisham (also from afar) and I left the mall. Instead, I figured I might have my own personal book festival in one of the big downtown bookshops. I was, after all, feeling some considerable withdrawal symptoms since it had been a full week since I last visited a bookshop.
I believe I have previously touched upon my at times nonexistent sense of direction. Today, however, I surprised even myself. Washington, like any citiy where there streets are numbered in one direction, and alphabetized in the other, should be relatively easy to navigate. Considering this, and the fact that I have walked quite a bit in Washington during these two months, I felt confident enough that I didn’t even bring a map. To illustrate just how sure I felt that I knew my way around, let me give you a direct quote from myself, approximately one and a half month ago: “I love walking in D.C.! It’s like impossible to get lost!” No need to go hungry – I’ve got words to eat…
I knew where I was going, and I knew how to get there. And I still managed to walk in the opposite direction – twice! How that is possible – since the opposite of the opposite direction ought to have been the right direction – is beyond me, but all I know is that I ended up almost falling into the Chesapeake Bay. Twice.
[“I speak whale!”]
Luckily I was able to retrace my steps, get on the right side of the mall, find the bookshop (once I walked in the right direction it was easy), and indulge in the pleasures a combined coffee-, book-, CD- and DVD-shop offers.
One final weird thing happened to me today. It’s not just a small world, it’s a tiny one. In that crowd of thousands of booklover, whom did I see other than one of my fellow researchers from the archive? That is, ex-fellow. As mentioned, I now consider myself done, finito, never goin’ back (well, never say never, but at least I don’t intend to spend every waking moment there anymore. I’ve got what I need. I hope). I figured it was about time to leave when several staff members now not only had memorized my name, but also were able to pronounce it properly. Who knows, maybe sending one of the researchers after me was the archive’s way of saying goodbye?
[Nemo and dad are happily reunited, so I think this is also my cue to say bye-bye for the night]
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
On walking between bookstores
The final day of Leanne’s visit in D.C. had one goal, and one only: to make us completely and utterly exhausted so that we would be able to sleep on the overnight train to Boston. We did our best, and we were pretty exhausted, but did we sleep on the train? Not so much…
Thursday started early – we had a breakfast date with our mutual friend, Sarah. Even though we did most of our packing the previous night, somehow we were still unable to be completely ready at time. Fortunately Sarah was patient, and tolerated being attacked by my host family’s over-enthusiastic dogs. When we finally were off, it turned out that the intended destination – a vegetarian breakfast place – was not yet open. We settled for alternative number two – bagels in a local college hang-out. The place was more that good enough, but in reality it probably had not mattered at all where we ate – we would have had a great time anyway. I have met Sarah in person before, Leanne had not, but our online interaction goes a long way back. We had such a great time thinking back to the “good, old times” we used to have, and since we share a lot of mutual interests, the conversation never stalled.
Sarah kindly dropped us off at the metro station, and then Leanne and I headed into the city. My office at George Washington University is, as I may have bragged about before, just a few blocks from the White House, so we went there to drop off our luggage before we started the day that was to be characterized by walking.
We walked to the White House, around it, from there to the Washington monument, around it, down the mall to the Lincoln memorial, yes, around it, and back to the White House area where we had lunch. Then we returned to my office, walked around it (but it’s not very big), went out again and ended up in Georgetown.
The train ride was long. It is one thing to spend ten hours on a train when it’s light and you can see things. It’s a whole different matter when you’re exhausted and cannot sleep. No matter how comfortable the seats were, they were not comfortable enough, and I had a feeling my neck wasn’t attached to my body in the same spot as usual when we finally left the train in Boston. However, despite the lack of sleep, our spirits were high. After a (not so) quick stop at Leanne’s apartment to leave luggage, freshen up and introduce me to her two beautiful cats, we went for a(nother) walk – this time around the area where she lives. It was very nice – one of the highlights was, naturally, a bookstore (before Leanne went to stay in one for the rest of the night – aka work).
When she left for work, I went on my own to the area around Harvard university. Forever and ever I will now be able to say that I once went to Harvard. Feels good.
The area is, however, worth a visit even if you hadn’t been able to say those words. It’s filled with quirky little shops of every kind (not to mention the bookstore of bookstores – I will shut up about them soon, I promise, or at least consolidate my thoughts into a single post…), lots of college students (but in my opinion they looked slightly smarter than what I see at other universities – this might be a trick of the mind…) and beautiful, old buildings.
Finally, however, the walking caught up with me, and I was thoroughly happy when I finally could go to sleep on Leanne’s couch.
Thursday started early – we had a breakfast date with our mutual friend, Sarah. Even though we did most of our packing the previous night, somehow we were still unable to be completely ready at time. Fortunately Sarah was patient, and tolerated being attacked by my host family’s over-enthusiastic dogs. When we finally were off, it turned out that the intended destination – a vegetarian breakfast place – was not yet open. We settled for alternative number two – bagels in a local college hang-out. The place was more that good enough, but in reality it probably had not mattered at all where we ate – we would have had a great time anyway. I have met Sarah in person before, Leanne had not, but our online interaction goes a long way back. We had such a great time thinking back to the “good, old times” we used to have, and since we share a lot of mutual interests, the conversation never stalled.
Sarah kindly dropped us off at the metro station, and then Leanne and I headed into the city. My office at George Washington University is, as I may have bragged about before, just a few blocks from the White House, so we went there to drop off our luggage before we started the day that was to be characterized by walking.
We walked to the White House, around it, from there to the Washington monument, around it, down the mall to the Lincoln memorial, yes, around it, and back to the White House area where we had lunch. Then we returned to my office, walked around it (but it’s not very big), went out again and ended up in Georgetown.
During this walk we also learned that Leanne apparently speak squirrel. The squirrels in D.C. are plentiful and relatively tame – they will for instance happily pose for photographs. However, I have never seen one approach by request until now, in fact it got so close that both Leanne an I were slightly worried the little bugger was going to climb her…
Squirrel pit stops set aside – in total this is a decent walk, especially considering we gradually added weight in our bags (we did naturally stop in every bookstore on our way). When we finally returned to my office that evening, we were tired enough to take advantage of my GWU privileges and call 4-RIDE to transport us to the metro rather than walk some more. This ensured that we got to Union Station in one piece (well, actually, Leanne and I were two separate pieces, and we had many pieces worth of luggage, so let me estimate we got there in maybe seven pieces). From there we managed to print our tickets, have some food, and board the 10 o’clock train.
The train ride was long. It is one thing to spend ten hours on a train when it’s light and you can see things. It’s a whole different matter when you’re exhausted and cannot sleep. No matter how comfortable the seats were, they were not comfortable enough, and I had a feeling my neck wasn’t attached to my body in the same spot as usual when we finally left the train in Boston. However, despite the lack of sleep, our spirits were high. After a (not so) quick stop at Leanne’s apartment to leave luggage, freshen up and introduce me to her two beautiful cats, we went for a(nother) walk – this time around the area where she lives. It was very nice – one of the highlights was, naturally, a bookstore (before Leanne went to stay in one for the rest of the night – aka work).
When she left for work, I went on my own to the area around Harvard university. Forever and ever I will now be able to say that I once went to Harvard. Feels good.
The area is, however, worth a visit even if you hadn’t been able to say those words. It’s filled with quirky little shops of every kind (not to mention the bookstore of bookstores – I will shut up about them soon, I promise, or at least consolidate my thoughts into a single post…), lots of college students (but in my opinion they looked slightly smarter than what I see at other universities – this might be a trick of the mind…) and beautiful, old buildings.
Finally, however, the walking caught up with me, and I was thoroughly happy when I finally could go to sleep on Leanne’s couch.
On Tolstoy-reading horses
If you take the blue line all the way out of Washington, D.C. and into Virginia, you might end up at Arlington. That’s what Leanne and I did on Wednesday.
Arlington is one of those places that isn’t funny, and that also shouldn’t be funny. It doesn’t belong in a funny blog, and I don’t intend to try to make it otherwise. Therefore, let me make it short. We went there, it was moving and beautiful and horrible at the same time, and we got to pay our respect to one of the recent “attractions” – the grave of Teddy Kennedy. The brothers are united at last. 
After Arlington, however, we had a lot of fun.
First, we went for lunch. Why is it that when on vacation, you always go for hours and hours without eating until you are absolutely starved, that as a consequence when you finally have lunch it is impossible to restrain yourself (or make up your mind on what to eat)? We ended up at “Au bon pain”. Even though I do know some French, I still think this is a funny name considering that we’re in an English-speaking country. Despite the name, lunch was pain-free, and afterwards we moved on to more important things – the bookstore across the street.
The thing about visiting bookstores with someone like Leanne, is that she will have read half the books there (or more), and she’ll recommend you most of them. Even when she’s not at work (incidentally, a bookstore), Leanne kicks donkeys at selling books. So I walked out of the shop with a ton of new books in my bag (I did pay for them, I swear!). This turned out to be a repeating incident – I might have to write a blog dedicated to bookstores of D.C. and Boston (since I already wrote one praising the Library of Congress).
After the bookstore, we figured that since we only had one more day in D.C. (well, she had – I have plenty), we should try to see some more. Like the Mall.
I have not yet figured out why the park-like area connecting the memorials with the Washington monument and Capitol Hill is called “the National Mall” (there is not a teenager in sight, so clearly it’s not really a mall…). My Lonely Planet mentions that “you know you live in Washington, D.C. when you know that ‘the Mall’ isn’t really a mall”, but it is otherwise unhelpful in this respect. Any enlightenment here would be appreciated.
Anyway, the Mall decided to maltreat me this afternoon – I was already beyond repair from lack of sleep the previous night (why I have turned into a part-time insomniac in this country is beyond me, but so it seems), and when I then proceeded to fall off the sidewalk (releasing a string of incomprehensive swearwords that finally allowed Leanne to howl out since she probably bit her tongue off trying to avoid laughing when I fell… Good job!), we realized it was time to head home. There the incomprehensive swearing continued due to my computer being a Tolstoy-reading horse (excellent insult to use if you’re in need).
What I was trying to do (and still need to do), was to book the flights for my next grand journey – this time to go see the Midwest. I am still planning to go, but it appears that in order to book flights you need: a) a functioning computer, b) a loaded credit card, and c) a functioning brain, I was indisposed at the time since I lacked all three. By now I have managed to obtain two of these, but the brain part still needs some work. It was on my to-do list for today, but apparently it ended up in the postpone-section of the list. Maybe tomorrow. Why is it that whenever I try to book flights I feel like I am making life altering decisions?
Oh, well… This was part two of something like four of the travel edition of my blog. Tomorrow you might need to wear comfortable shoes. Consider yourself warned.
Arlington is one of those places that isn’t funny, and that also shouldn’t be funny. It doesn’t belong in a funny blog, and I don’t intend to try to make it otherwise. Therefore, let me make it short. We went there, it was moving and beautiful and horrible at the same time, and we got to pay our respect to one of the recent “attractions” – the grave of Teddy Kennedy. The brothers are united at last. 
After Arlington, however, we had a lot of fun.
First, we went for lunch. Why is it that when on vacation, you always go for hours and hours without eating until you are absolutely starved, that as a consequence when you finally have lunch it is impossible to restrain yourself (or make up your mind on what to eat)? We ended up at “Au bon pain”. Even though I do know some French, I still think this is a funny name considering that we’re in an English-speaking country. Despite the name, lunch was pain-free, and afterwards we moved on to more important things – the bookstore across the street.
The thing about visiting bookstores with someone like Leanne, is that she will have read half the books there (or more), and she’ll recommend you most of them. Even when she’s not at work (incidentally, a bookstore), Leanne kicks donkeys at selling books. So I walked out of the shop with a ton of new books in my bag (I did pay for them, I swear!). This turned out to be a repeating incident – I might have to write a blog dedicated to bookstores of D.C. and Boston (since I already wrote one praising the Library of Congress).
After the bookstore, we figured that since we only had one more day in D.C. (well, she had – I have plenty), we should try to see some more. Like the Mall.
I have not yet figured out why the park-like area connecting the memorials with the Washington monument and Capitol Hill is called “the National Mall” (there is not a teenager in sight, so clearly it’s not really a mall…). My Lonely Planet mentions that “you know you live in Washington, D.C. when you know that ‘the Mall’ isn’t really a mall”, but it is otherwise unhelpful in this respect. Any enlightenment here would be appreciated.
Anyway, the Mall decided to maltreat me this afternoon – I was already beyond repair from lack of sleep the previous night (why I have turned into a part-time insomniac in this country is beyond me, but so it seems), and when I then proceeded to fall off the sidewalk (releasing a string of incomprehensive swearwords that finally allowed Leanne to howl out since she probably bit her tongue off trying to avoid laughing when I fell… Good job!), we realized it was time to head home. There the incomprehensive swearing continued due to my computer being a Tolstoy-reading horse (excellent insult to use if you’re in need).
What I was trying to do (and still need to do), was to book the flights for my next grand journey – this time to go see the Midwest. I am still planning to go, but it appears that in order to book flights you need: a) a functioning computer, b) a loaded credit card, and c) a functioning brain, I was indisposed at the time since I lacked all three. By now I have managed to obtain two of these, but the brain part still needs some work. It was on my to-do list for today, but apparently it ended up in the postpone-section of the list. Maybe tomorrow. Why is it that whenever I try to book flights I feel like I am making life altering decisions?
Oh, well… This was part two of something like four of the travel edition of my blog. Tomorrow you might need to wear comfortable shoes. Consider yourself warned.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
On libraries and liberties
As mentioned in yesterday’s post, I have company this week (tomorrow Leanne and I are both heading for Boston), and this will – I repeat will – interrupt my blogging (and there was much rejoicing). There might not be another post up before I get back on Monday, or, there might be posts every day. Who knows? Anyway, until further notice, expect delays in both directions (I’ve been riding the DC metro too much lately). The following post was supposed to be up yesterday (so for your own convenience, translate every “today” into “yesterday”). There were new shenanigans today (not yesterday), which might, or might not, be posted tomorrow. Please step back for the doors to close.
Leanne arrived ridiculously early (and on time, even though her train was stuck for a while in Connecticut, or Bommdbugbtt as I called it in my 4 am reply). We even managed to find each other in the crowd at Union Station, and deposit her suitcase in daycare (I think it must have been one of those pre-Harvard ones, as it was horribly expensive).
After breakfast and Starbucks, we walked towards Capitol Hill. It is pretty funny that I, after having spent only a month in this country, got to show Leanne (native-born American, though she’ll rarely admit that) the capital of this country. Once again I let myself be impressed by the grandeur of Capitol – the building is amazing. This time we also went on the tour – which was funny – mostly because the tour guide seemed to have caught a bad case of the vodka-valium-mocha-latte syndrome (nobody is that cheery that early in the morning). 
Architecturally and interior-wise, the library couldn’t be better. Imagine the library in Beauty and the Beast (every girl’s childhood fantasy). Add a tablespoon of alcoves with tiny little staircases, and a pinch of real books (with real funny titles – like the Dictionary of Art, Volume 19, “Leather to Macho”). It was almost like coming to heaven.
Before leaving (we needed solid food, as opposed to brain food), we also paid a visit to the children’s book section – which in addition to lots and lots of adorable books for kids, also contained a nice, little German lady who told us to come back on Friday afternoon for tea (she also wanted me to rethink the topic of my thesis and instead write about children’s literature. We shall see. The jump from geopolitics to kindergarten logic isn’t that big, after all).
All in all a very good day (we didn't even get caught doing bogus research!) – tomorrow we’re off to another state!
Leanne arrived ridiculously early (and on time, even though her train was stuck for a while in Connecticut, or Bommdbugbtt as I called it in my 4 am reply). We even managed to find each other in the crowd at Union Station, and deposit her suitcase in daycare (I think it must have been one of those pre-Harvard ones, as it was horribly expensive).
After breakfast and Starbucks, we walked towards Capitol Hill. It is pretty funny that I, after having spent only a month in this country, got to show Leanne (native-born American, though she’ll rarely admit that) the capital of this country. Once again I let myself be impressed by the grandeur of Capitol – the building is amazing. This time we also went on the tour – which was funny – mostly because the tour guide seemed to have caught a bad case of the vodka-valium-mocha-latte syndrome (nobody is that cheery that early in the morning). After we’d seen where the legislation happens, though, we went for today’s real treat. A while back I sent Leanne a postcard suggesting a visit to every booklover’s fantasy – the Library of Congress. Aside from seeing the beautiful and slightly overwhelming building, we also got to do what the average tourist can’t – access the books. We had to walk through a maze and answer a riddle – but they eventually let us in. We got researcher cards (Leanne’s mug shot looks like she’s a mass murderer, while mine look like I’m the no brain accomplice); planned fake research projects (obviously I did not want to even peek at any books that might be relevant for the research project I’m actually working on); and – poof – after a quick walk back through the maze (I almost got us lost, but fortunately Leanne can smell the books from miles away) we were in.
Architecturally and interior-wise, the library couldn’t be better. Imagine the library in Beauty and the Beast (every girl’s childhood fantasy). Add a tablespoon of alcoves with tiny little staircases, and a pinch of real books (with real funny titles – like the Dictionary of Art, Volume 19, “Leather to Macho”). It was almost like coming to heaven.
All in all a very good day (we didn't even get caught doing bogus research!) – tomorrow we’re off to another state!
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