A Visit to Washington, D.C.: Preview

On the White House Lawn for Queen Elizabeth's visit. 2007.

The spring/summer of 2016 has been the season for hip-hoppity travel before going to my next year-long sojourn in a new home.

• April: Antigua, Guatemala
• May: Longmont, Colorado
• June: Washington, DC and Toronto
• July: South Louisiana
• August: Missouri

Dentist's office. Washington, D.C. 2007

At this point in my 2016 story, then, I've left Colorado, spent a bit of time in Missouri, and am now off to Washington, D.C.

In Antigua, I stayed at an airbnb. In Colorado, I nested with my sister, Murphy. In both these places, I had my own bedroom and own bath. Shared a kitchen and common living area.

While in DC, a very expensive place to live, I was right cozy with my friend, "Suzanne," who lived in a studio-plus apartment. I say "plus" because it has a generous balcony and a large closet/storage area. Before I forget, she may also have one of the best showers I've ever enjoyed. Not because of its design or size, but because of the perfection of its water pressure and the massage-like, needle-y rays of water from the shower head.

Off of U Street. Washington, D.C. 2007

Staying a week with Suzanne in D.C. (more technically, Bethesda, Maryland) and then two weeks with friend, "Rachel," in Toronto's city center, was an illuminating experience in living with another person in compact quarters, as a guest and not a resident.

For one, it speaks volumes that my hostesses welcomed me into their petite homes for a week and two weeks, respectively. This was generosity extraordinaire on their parts. Sharing a bathroom, kitchen, air and floor space for a sustained period when normally they've got such precious real estate all to themselves - I don't take this for granted.

For me, it was an excellent practice in the art of being a good guest (hopefully), by respecting the hostesses' preferences for where to place things, cleaning up, etc. There are also the questions of lights-out times and getting-up times.

Murky Coffee. Washington, D.C. 2007

And keys. In apartment buildings, the sharing of one's keys with a guest demonstrates a great deal of trust in the recipient's reliability. Replacement keys can be mighty expensive. And even if they're replaced, it is disconcerting to think of a little piece of your household floating about lost in the unknown.

... But getting back to D.C. in particular. I've been to the city a number of times in the past, thus have visited the usual tourist spots. My agenda for this trip was simply to flow with Suzanne's river, without any destination expectations.

The week I visited coincided with the DC Jazz Festival - cool! Suzanne and I checked that out. More on this later.

We visited the United States Botanical Garden. More later.

Fessenden blooms. Washington, D.C. 2007

Suzanne and I tried out Uber for the first time, and then a second and third time. More on this later.

And since it seemed the summer was shaping up to be a jazz-themed season, we also checked out an Ethiopian-American jazz club. More later.

The photos in this article are from prior trips to D.C.

Metro art. Washington, D.C. 2007

Missouri: St. Joseph

Missouri River, Remington Nature Center, St. Joseph, Missouri. June 2016.

After leaving Hiawatha's Davis Memorial on my road trip back to Missouri from Colorado, I stopped at the Remington Nature Center in St. Joseph.

What a beautiful place. Of course, just about anything along a river is special.

The center incorporates ecology, natural history, and human history in its exhibits.

The human history exhibits prompted unanswered questions for me: 

• Why is there no mention of slavery or black American life in the area during the 1800s? 

Per the 1860 census, Buchanan County (wherein is St. Joseph) had a total population of 22,000. People who were enslaved comprised 2000 of this number. "Free colored" people comprised about 50 of the 22,000 total. Any history of a community should include such information. It is a form of acknowledgement. Recognition. Respect.

• The exhibits that focus on the Civil War make no mention of slavery. Why? 

• Who provided the labor to build the railroad that went through St. Joseph in 1859?

My limited research attempts haven't revealed much. However, in the 1880s, there were labor strikes in which white and black rail workers aligned against Chinese rail workers regarding pay and job security. In the 1850s, some railroad companies owned people as slaves or they "rented" enslaved women, men, and children to build the railroads. 

• Who provided the labor to build the Missouri River bridge in 1873? 

The exhibits were well designed and interesting. I don't want to take away from that. But it's time we take more care in telling the stories of all of our residents' forebears, not just some.

Wide, accessible walkway along the river

The heading says it all. I took a slow walk along the river during my visit. I spied a handsome bird surveiling the land and river.

Missouri: Cuivre River State Park

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

I spent a June afternoon at Cuivre River State Park with family members who were camping there for the weekend.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

We went on a photography walk.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

I played with my new camera, with mixed results.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

 Much more practice ahead.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

It wasn't all about flowers. There were crawdads in the river. Not sure how their taste would stack up against the mudbugs in South Louisiana.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

And I followed one of my descendants on the trail. She always likes to be out front.

Cuivre River State Park. June 2016.

Kansas: Hiawatha: Davis Memorial

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Years and years ago, I read about this little town of Hiawatha, Kansas, where a man - John Davis - had created a statuary garden that honored his late wife, Sarah Hart Davis. I imagined a large estate with a vast green lawn, dotted with white-white statues of Ms. Davis at various stages of her life.

Although it never quite worked out for me to visit that memorial, its presence remained filed in one of my brain cubbies.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

But this year, this road trip, it would happen.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Upon researching my way there, my vision of a vast estate dissolved with the information that the Davis Memorial is actually in a cemetery, specifically, the Mount Hope Cemetery. It took me awhile to find the cemetery, but I did, at which point I discovered that the collection of statues that comprise the Davis Memorial are in a compact space.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

The compactness of the space concentrated the impact of the statues. However, the author of this article disagrees.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Some Hiawatha residents questioned Mr. Davis' devotion to his wife while she lived. One wonders. Look at that side-eye below.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Mr. Davis' outlay of more than $200,000 on such frivolity provoked many Hiawatha citizens. It was during the Depression, after all, and Mr. Davis could have spent his wealth on communal amenities such as a pool or a hospital.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

The Davises had no children, and evidently there was no love lost between Ms. Davis' family and Mr. Davis. Some community members whispered that Mr. Davis' memorials to his deceased wife was one way to deny her family members access to his money when he died.

Davis Memorial, Mount Hope Cemetery. Hiawatha, Kansas. June 2016.

Despite the rumors that spoke to Mr. Davis' motives and stinginess, apparently Mr. Davis regularly and anonymously gave money to people in need.

The author of this article recognizes the irony in the fact that the Davis Memorial attracts tourism dollars to Hiawatha.

Below is a video from Tales of the Midland Empire that tells the story. Or let's say, one of the stories, about the Davises and the Davis Memorial:

Leaving Colorado

I delayed my departure from Colorado for one day to give inclement weather time to move past.

Bennett, Colorado. June 2016.

 The skies still brooded overhead when I left in the morning, but there was also a promise of light.

Bennett, Colorado. June 2016.

I retraced my steps on Highway 36 for the return trip to Missouri.

Highway 36, Colorado. June 2016.

Highway 36, Colorado. June 2016.

Colorado: Boulder: The Scentsual

Mmmmm. Peanut tea. Credit: Eric Christopher Perry

I am a sensualist, there is no doubt. The luxuries of sight, taste, touch, hearing, and smell are wondrous avenues to living a rich life, independent of one's material wealth.


Consider the sense of smell. So many nouns to describe the nuances of this gift. 

• Smell
• Fragrance
• Aroma
• Odor
• Stench
• Scent
• Stink
• Perfume
• Bouquet
• Musk

A twist of herb. Yerevan, Armenia. March 2012.

So many ways to describe the character of a smell: 

• Spicy
• Floral
• Citrusy
• Tangy
• Sweet
• Sour
• Musky
• Crisp
• Clean
• Pungent
• Light
• Sharp
• Fishy
• Metallic
• Herbal
• Earthy
• Moldy
• Musty
• Buttery
• Nutty
• Rotting
• Barnyard 
• Minty

Spice Market, Istanbul. June 2012.

A couple of years ago, when I attended the Crawfish Etoufee Cook-Off in Eunice, I experienced the discordant but compelling aromas of sweet cinnamon rolls competing for air with spicy crawfish boils.

Spicy crawfish. Crawfish Etoufee Cook-Off. Eunice, Louisiana. March 2014.

In 2012, a drive through Derry, New Mexico, introduced me to the heady scent of roasting peppers in October.


In 2011, in Awassa, Ethiopia, the odor of giant storks nesting in the branches above me was so outrageously pungent as to make me laugh in appalled admiration.

But getting back to Colorado. One day, I visited the Celestial Seasonings plant outside of Boulder.

A good tour, and I recommend it. No pics allowed in the plant, therefore I have none to show.

The most memorable take-aways for me: 

Walking through waves of scent. An aroma bath. Breathing deeply to pull in those biological perfumes. Sheer sensual pleasure.

The mint room. It's in its own room because mint's perfume is so sharp, so pungent, that it invades all other fragrances in its wave. Some visitors cannot even stay in this room for longer than a few seconds because they are overcome by its power.

Spice Market, Istanbul. June 2012.

Breathe in. Mmmmm.

Wyoming: Cheyenne And Nearabouts

Cemetery, Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.

My sister, Murphy, and I popped up to Cheyenne, Wyoming when I visited her in Longmont, Colorado, in May.

Murphy hadn't yet done any Wyoming prowling, so it was a mutual exploration of something new.

My main takeaways:

1. Cheyenne, the town. I liked the vibe! It would be a place to consider lingering in for months or even a year. But the winter's cold and snow take it off my list. 
2. Wyoming's rest areas/visitor centers. Murphy and I stopped in at two. Wowser. Impressive for their interior and exterior designs and their exhibits. 
3. What's the name of the college town? Right, Laramie. We passed through after taking the Happy Jack loop from Cheyenne en route to Longmont. Unremarkable. Of course, the infamous torture and killing of the young student in 1998 is burned into my brain. 

 

Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.

Lunch

Murphy and I lunched at the Rib & Chop House downtown. I ordered the Chophouse Caesar Salad with the sirloin + bacon. Delish.


2016 Depot Days

We happened to visit Cheyenne during its 2016 Depot Days event. Many train aficionados attended. Watching the model train setup in the historic train depot mesmerized. The video below:

As part of the Depot Days, a double-decker bus shuttled people between the historic depot and the fairgrounds on the edge of town. A sunny day it was, and Murphy and I chose the upper, open-air deck of the bus. It was an easy-button way to see some of the Cheyenne neighborhoods.

Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.

Gosh, I just loved the color play between that luscious red building and the fresh, baby-green foliage on the square.

Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.

Murphy had a hankerin' to visit the city cemetery, so we did. It was a fruitful visit, with its greenery and graceful white stones. And the Maynards, may they rest in peace.

Cemetery, Cheyenne, Wyoming. May 2016.

Rest Area / Visitor Center / Welcome Center / Whatever


Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument

A beauty. 

Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument, Wyoming. May 2016.

Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument, Wyoming. May 2016.

View from Abraham Lincoln Memorial Monument, Wyoming. May 2016.

Southeast Wyoming Welcome Center aka Wyoming Travel and Tourism

I don't have any pictures of this center, but I was impressed by the exhibits within, the interior design, and the mid-century-ish, Frank Lloyd Wrightian exterior design. There are marvelous photos and commentary here.

Colorado: Coffee Trials

Ethiopian coffee ceremony at friend's house, Washington, D.C. 2007.

On my way in to my sister Murphy's place, where I was to stay for a month, I picked up some flavored coffee, already ground.

I shortly discovered that Murphy had no coffee-making paraphernalia except for a small, one-cup French press. Oi.

Don't get me wrong. I like coffee from a French press. The thing is, though, the coffee I'd brought wasn't the right grind for a French press. Also, it takes a good six minutes just to let the ground coffee steep in the French press before you can drink it. And that's after you've heated up the water to the right temperature. One little cup at a time in Murphy's baby French press.

Coffee in Lalibela, Ethiopia. 2011.

I tried to make it work, but it was excruciating to have to wait, over and over again, for a small cup of less-than-mediocre coffee. Murphy had some ground coffee in the freezer that past visitors had left, but still, it just wasn't doing it for me.

Even if I were to schlep to the store, buy a supply of good-quality coffee in the bean, and grind it to the right French press standard, I'd still have that impatient wait for each cup.

So it was back to the instant coffee for me. I'd buy my go-to favorite, Nescafe Taster's Choice French Roast.

But then I had a thought.

Coffee on kilim, Istanbul, Turkey. 2012.

Why don't I peruse the reviews of presumptive instant-coffee connoisseurs, and try out the alleged best of the instant brews?

So I did and here's one example of a review list.

Starbucks Instant was in the top five in any review list I looked at, but it was cost-prohibitive for me, which eliminated it from my personal testing list.

Jabena for coffee making. Washington, D.C. 2007.

Other Top 10s were either unavailable to me locally or they, like Starbucks, exceeded my budget ceiling.

But I tried out two brands with top marks: Bustelo and Medaglia d'Oro. Disappointing. Neither had a pleasing aroma. One had a chemical note. The flavors were nondescript.

I returned to my old lover, Nescafe Taster's Choice French Roast.

Related posts:

• Travel Blasphemy #1: Turkish Coffee
• Ethiopia: A Sweet Coffee Goodbye in Nazret
• Rustavi: In the Society of Women
• Keshalo: A Tiny Adventure
• Dubai: The Creek: Bur Dubai Side 
• Coffee and Salt: The Essences of Life

Flashback of a Flashback: A Rooted Moment

In September 2011, I lived in Caucasus Georgia, teaching English to police and to schoolchildren.

There was a day ....

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

A Rooted Moment

This morning, as I reviewed "furniture" with my police English class, the image of my old house came into my head. Specifically, the kitchen and dining room, with me wiping down the table and counter. The Sears & Roebuck oak table I'd bought at an auction ten bajillion years ago for $12.50, now belonging to new owners. The light that came through the kitchen's dutch door that goes out onto the back deck.

It was a moment of .... not regret, I don't think .... more of wistful remembrance.  It took me by surprise.

Colorado: Longmont: Cannabis

High school.

First time I tried pot, I hated it. Didn't like the mind-bendy effect that I had no power to turn off. I just had to let it wear off in its own good time. Subsequent trials were pleasant, but I never felt bonded to marijuana. The only thing memorable about the high school era of pot smoking was the frequency in which my best friend and I threw away or flushed our pathetic little stashes due to paranoia when we saw a cop behind us on the road or when the doorbell rang at the house.

College era(s).

I don't recall any usage during my many, stuttering college years. Doesn't mean I didn't indulge; just don't remember it.


Young adulthood.

For much of my young adulthood, I was pretty poor. No money for weed, I could say. But really, I didn't buy it because the interest just wasn't there, plus why risk expensive legal consequences? I also didn't drink alcohol very much.

I had a different drug of choice: nicotine. There was money for that. There had to be money for that. I say that without any sense of wry humor or judgy smirkdom. I needed those cigarettes.


Amsterdam.

A brother and his family lived for a time in Amsterdam. My sister, Murphy, and I visited them one November.

Marijuana was legal there and we checked it out.

Using a logic I don't understand, a bar that sold alcohol couldn't sell weed, and a "bar" that sold weed couldn't sell alcohol. Maybe the powers-that-be didn't want customers to drink and smoke marijuana together? Don't know. I guess that probably does make sense. I suppose I could research this, but heck, it was so many years ago.



Colorado

On the "why not?" agenda for my visit to Colorado was the purchase of some legal cannabis.

So one day I visited the local outlet, where I happily discovered that I wore the appropriate apparel, to wit: Various shades of black with accents of green.

My green accents weren't quite on fashion point, as mine leaned toward a khaki green, while other shoppers favored a granny apple sort of green.

Surprisingly, my fellow customers seemed, well, kind of depressed. I'm not talking about the medical-use buyers; I'm talking about the recreational-use customers. I expected some cheerfulness, some joie de vivre.

Maybe the waiting room ambience tempered their otherwise ebullient spirits. It had a vibe similar to that of a 1970s STD clinic.

First orders of business: Show my photo ID. Sit down and wait to be called for entrance through the recreational-use door.

When my number came up, I entered the door into the recreational-use room. There was a glass counter and two sales people. "My" sales person, a pleasant woman, and I had a brief talk about how I might ingest the cannabis and what effect I sought. If I wanted to get laid back and sleepy, I might choose this blend; if I wanted more of a buzz, I might try this other blend. If I want something in between, here's an alternative.

Because I used to be a cigarette smoker, I knew I didn't want to wake up any dragons by smoking my purchase. Because I've got an eating disorder, I knew I didn't want to snack my drug.

I opted for a root beer delivery system and the happy-medium blend of cannabis. I bought two bottles of cannabis-ed root beer and was out the door.

When I exited the outlet, a sheriff's car was pulling out of the back entrance area, no doubt finding rich fodder in the scanned photo IDs of the day, along with the array of license plates in the parking lot. 


I'll cut to the chase.

Each bottle of root beer cost about the same as a glass of wine at a restaurant (a modestly-priced restaurant). While I get a buzz from wine quickly, the effects of the cannabis root beer came more slowly and quietly.

Drinking wine is more convivial, social, to me. Drinking the cannabis felt more solitary.

There's a sensory dimension to drinking wine - the graceful curves of a glass, the jewel tones of the wine, the flavor and feel on the tongue - that wasn't present with the cannabis. If I were with a group of people smoking the weed via a hookah, in a sumptuous room of colors and textures, maybe my overall experience would have compared better with drinking wine.

But hot damn, I LOVED the shopping bag I received to carry my purchase!

Colorado: Fort Collins: Cathy Fromme Prairie Natural Area

Wildflower. Cathy Fromme Prairie Natural Area. May 2016.

Another pretty day and another pretty park.

I sought May wildflowers, found this list, and saw that the Cathy Fromme Prairie Natural Area in Fort Collins wasn't too far away.

My sister, Murphy, and I popped up there. She dropped me off and I walked the wide, paved trail.

I watched a kestrel as he perused the day's menu. 

Kestrel. Cathy Fromme Prairie Natural Area. May 2016.

I couldn't get a decent photo, but a clutch of baby coyotes bounced about in the tall grass on a knoll, while staying within calling distance of mama.

I admired the courting flashes (or maybe a territorial protection display against other males) of a red-winged blackbird. I've got some ho-hum stills in the slideshow at the end of this post. But here is a terrific video about the birds from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology:

The Cathy Fromme Prairie Natural Area is a jewel for Fort Collins. 


A slideshow below:

Cathy Fromme Prairie Natural Area. May 2016.

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