I have great news! I was invited to talk about invasive species during National Invasive Species Awareness Week (NISAW) from February 26 – March 3, 2012 in Washington, DC. Wow! What an honor to be invited to our nation’s capital!!!!

I’m going to bring my Invasive Hunter Academy to NISAW Kids’ Day at the U.S. Botanic Garden on Sunday, February 26th. I’m going to train kids with fun activities to teach them how to be an invasive hunter.

I’m looking forward to learning more about invasives too and to going to Washington for the first time. I want to visit the Natural History Museum, Smithsonian, Air and Space Museum, and the Lincoln Memorial.

I’d like to climb up the Washington Monument too, but I don’t know if my Dad can make it all the way up. (I hear it might be closed for repairs after the earthquake too. At least that’s what my Dad told me.)

If you’re a kid near Washington, and you want to learn more about invasive species, go to Kids’ day. (It’s free!) I would love to meet you and help train you to battle invasives too!

There were many places I visited where photography was not permitted, where possible I have found substitute photos of the interior of places where I was not permitted to photograph. Unless otherwise noted, all photos taken by me.

The Washington Monument, seen through reflection of the World War II memorial fountain pool at night. Sadly, the giant reflecting pool in Washington is empty of water right now due to upgrade construction. But I still found some water to take this photo at the World War II memorial.

I saw so much in Washington, that I am going to test the attention span of you all, by including a great many photos.

The National Christmas Tree, near South Lawn, White House.

Secret Service sniper on roof of White House.

White House, north lawn.

White House guard house.

The Lincoln Monument, beautiful monument. Martin Luther King’s ‘I have a dream’ speech was delivered here. The monument is around 100 years old and is visted by 6 million people a year.

And introducing, the newly discovered panorama feature of my camera. When you see a flat, wide, panorama photo, click on it for a closer look, then hit the back button on your browser to return to where you were.

The Washington Metro rail system, which I became very accustomed to by the time I was done in Washington. It is a blend of subway tracks, elevated tracks, ground tracks.

Panorama photo of the US Supreme Court.

Very serendipitously, I arrived at the Supreme Court just in time for an in courtroom lecture, went up this lovely marble hallway and was one of a very small group of only five people who had turned up. I never even thought the public were allowed inside the courtroom itself, to my suprise I was an arm’s length from where the justices sit. The US Supreme Court is a place where huge legal decisions have been made, that filter through to the whole world in terms of what rights and laws are to become the status quo in modern society. Sometimes, like in the case of the 2000 election, the Supreme Court decides who wins the Presidency.

A stunning marble spiral staircase in the Supreme Court building.

Photography was banned inside the courtroom. But here is an interior photo taken from online. The top sections of all four walls are decorated with marble friezes depicting historical people and mythical figures related to justice and the law.

I was in the restroom and was stunned to find that every inch of the Supreme Court seems to be covered in marble.

The Vietnam Veterans memorial.

Martin Luther King memorial, opened in 2011.

Washington Monument by night, with tree.

World War II Memorial

World War II Memorial panoramic.

United States Capitol Building by night.

Interior of United States Senate chamber, as seen during the lying in state of Senator Robert Byrd. A member of the Democratic Party, Byrd served as a U.S. Representative from 1953 until 1959 and as a U.S. Senator from 1959 to 2010. He was the longest-serving senator and the longest-serving member in the history of the United States Congress.

I attended the public gallery of the US Senate at night, night sessions sometimes stretch to as late as 2AM. I had a surreal experience, being the only member of the public there for an hour or so. Nobody but the Senators, the guards, and myself. The ornate interior is quite stunning.

Arlington National Cemetery, a beautiful cemetery where soldiers from all of America’s wars are interred, along with two Presidents.

All sorts of decorated Generals and Colonels are buried here.

As I looked around, I noticed it was common to see the gravestones of soldiers who had fought in multiple wars.

Some of the graves are very ornate, here can be seen the grave of Senator Kellogg-Davis who was instrumental in the peace talks that ended the Spanish American war of 1898 over Cuban independence.

Metal bas relief on the Senator’s grave, showing him at the peace talk table.

Panorama photo of President Kennedy’s grave and memorial site.

The Kennedy grave site and memorial is adorned with various quotations from his speeches. Here can be seen “ask not what your country can do for you…”.

John F. Kennedy’s grave, with eternal flame. To the right, out of frame, is buried Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, either side of them, are the graves of son Patrick who died 2 days old the same year Kennedy died in 1963, and also the grave of their stillborn daughter Arabella. Nearby are buried Robert Kennedy and Ted Kennedy.

Arlington Cemetery memorial for the victims of the Lockerbie bombing air disaster. With a very sad recently delivered bunch of flowers for Christmas from the parents of one of the young victims. An interesting aside about the Lockerbie bombing is that Sex Pistols lead singer Johnny Rotten narrowly missed boarding that plane due to delays caused by his wife taking a long time to pack their bags.

Memorial for the Astronauts lost in the 2003 Space Shuttle Columbia disaster.

And the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster.

An interesting Astronaut grave not related to a disaster. Astronauts can choose to be buried at Arlington too.

The Tomb of the Unkowns, where sunglasses are part of the uniform for the ‘sentinels of the tomb’. To serve as a sentinel of the tomb is considered one of the highest honours in the US military, and the changing of the guard occurs every hour, all day, all night, even when the cemetery is closed to the public at night, in all weather. It is customary for the guard to walk 21 steps on the carpet in front of the tomb, the number 21 alluding to a 21 gun salute.

I was mesmerised to discover yet another lucky break, because I had been walking around Arlington cemetery all day, and happened to stumble upon the Tomb of the Unkowns at just the moment not only the changing of the guard was taking place, but when the Japanese Foreign Minister was visiting the tomb for a wreath laying ceremony on the occasion of his first visit to the US since the recent 70th Anniversary of Pearl Harbor which officially occurred a couple of weeks before this wreath laying. Japanese Foreign Minister Kōichirō Gemba had bilateral talks with US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton about North Korea.

I took the following video with my camera, which does not shoot very good video, and is mainly a still camera, but here it is… I thought this was fascinating to watch, because of the forever intertwined military history between Japan and the United States.

A photo I was very happy with, Tomb of the Unknowns with sentinel’s bayonet in foreground.

Close up of the ‘circle of the sun’ Japanese flag themed wreath laid by the Japanese Foreign Minister.

International Spy Museum

Aston Martin DB5 with James Bond enhancements added by the museum for effect.

Tyre slasher.

There are more spies in this city than in any other city in the world. I went to the Spy Museum but photography was not allowed. See this excellent video of it instead…

The National Archives

The Charters of Freedom rotunda, home of America’s founding documents, where no photography was allowed. Somehow I managed to get a photo and video taken by others from online.

Here is where displayed to the public, surrounded by armed guards, one can see the real, signed original documents of the beginning of the United States. Here I saw the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights.

These documents, three of the most important documents in world history, are stored in glass fronted encasements containing the highest document preservation technology developed by NASA and the National Archives.

The National Archives also contains a museum section, where photographs are allowed, so below, more of my photos…

A civil war era telegraph from Abraham Lincoln responding to a request for a stay of execution for an alleged traitor.

“Instrument of downfall”. An amazing object, Richard Nixon’s oval office tape recorder.

Evidence tag from Watergate investigation still attached to the tape recorder.

Smithsonian Museum of American History

Actual filing cabinet from the psychiatrist’s office of Pentagon Papers leaker Daniel Ellsberg broken into by the Nixon White House ‘plumbers’ digging for dirt files.

Nuclear ‘football’. The US nuclear weapons arsenal launch codes satchel from the Clinton era, handcuffed to the wrist of an American soldier travelling with the President at all times.

The ruby slippers from the Wizard of Oz film.

Bill Clinton’s saxophone.

Thomas Jefferson’s polygraph, a device that would hold two pens and make a copy of a letter on the left as a letter was written on the right hand side piece of paper. He called it ‘the finest invention of the current age’, from the early 19th century.

Michael Jackson’s hat.

Farrah Fawcett’s swimsuit. Interesting that it is actually located in the museum right next to Michael Jackson’s hat, and that they both died on the same day in 2009.

George Washington used this telescope during the American War of Independence. One can just imagine him putting his eye to this and seeing the British ‘redcoats’ advancing.

This microscope and light box was used by the CIA to examine satellite photos during the Cuban Missile Crisis.

This wall of televisions from the 1960s and 70s was part of a great Vietnam War section at the museum, one of the best displays in my opinion that I have ever seen. It was set out like a 1960s lounge room in a home, and because this was the first time a major war had been televised, the exhibit has a focus on the TV coverage of the Vietnam war. There is an old couch and coffee table where you can sit and watch the walls of TVs as they play original broadcasts of the time.

Secret Service equipment.

Plastic figurines of every president.

Kennedys board game, circa 1960s.

Lincoln Logs, childrens construction toy named after President Lincoln, invented by John Wright, son of famed architect Frank Lloyd Wright.

Slave Collar, which would have been fitted with a bell on the hook, to locate the slaves on the plantation.

I grouped this photo here, but it is not from the Smithsonian. It is from Arlington House, a historic home overlooking Washington. This is the slave quarters.

Interior of the slave quarters of Arlington House.

Other large museums I went to included the Natural History Museum, Portrait Gallery, Crime and Punishment museum, but I did not take photos at these, for some, photography was banned, for others, I neglected to bring my camera, and one very annoying time, I left the photo memory card in the laptop, and was left with a camera that could not store any photos.

As with the New York City post, I have saved the best for last again…

National Air and Space Museum Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center

Dulles, Virginia

The Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, named in honour of the billionaire philanthropist and airline magnate who donated $65 million to the Smithsonian to help build this $300 million facility, it is part of the Smithsonian museums, and located about 30 miles away from Washington, in Dulles, Virginia. I had read about this place a couple of years ago and was very keen to see it. I spent all day there, from opening to closing, and even when there was 10 minutes to closing, I was still running around trying to see everything.

The exterior of the hangar complex with its observation tower. The facility is located right near the Dulles International Airport, and the tower enables visitors to watch aircraft coming and going from the airport. A live feed of the air traffic control radio can be heard in the observation tower. This place is the premier aviation museum in the world.

Housing over 100 aircraft and over 122 space objects, it has sections on modern military aviation, sport aviation, aerobatic aviation, extensive sections of WWII combatant nations’ aircraft, business aviation, commercial aviation, interwar military aviation, pre-1920 aviation, human spaceflight, satellites, rockets, missiles, space probes, hot air balloons and blimps, world record attempt aviation, and more.

The aircraft are on the ground, perched high on pillars, and many even hang down suspended from the ceiling. I took 475 photos at this museum, so I cannot include them all, and even some of the best ones have been excluded from this blog.

A Vought F4U Corsair from the Korean War.

A general panoramic shot of the interior of the hangar.

Another general shot, showing the Air France Concorde and the prototype of the Boeing 707, America’s first jet airliner.

Lockheed SR-71 Blackbird Spy Plane. Capable of flying at 85,000 feet, and speeds of up to 2,193 mph or 3,529 km/h. This very plane in the photo flew from Los Angeles to Washington in 64 minutes on its final flight in 1990. A dangerous plane, over one third of those ever built were lost to accidents.

Panoramic shot of the Lockheed Martin Joint Strike Fighter F-35 B Lightning II. Fifth Generation figher, and the most modern example at the museum. This $400 billion program will produce two and a half thousand of these aircraft for the air forces of the United States, United Kingdom, Italy, The Netherlands, Canada, Turkey, Australia, Norway and Denmark. This one is the B variant, which is worth $300 million a piece. It is the short take off / vertical landing version. Why is an advanced, new, fifth generation fighter in a museum already? this one was used in the research and development phase with test flights and then donated to the Smithsonian.

The short take off, vertical landing engine of the Joint Strike Fighter F-35 B Lightning II, a very advanced engine that will see this variant put into service on aircraft carriers for the next 30 years.

Panoramic shot of Space Shuttle Enterprise. There were not many visitors on this Monday when I went here, and I was alone with the Space Shuttle. Just me and a Space Shuttle, thank you very much.

Next year, this Space Shuttle is moving to the New York City Intrepid Air and Space museum, as seen earlier on this blog. In its place here at the Udvar Hazy Center, will go the retired Space Shuttle Discovery. Both will be flown on top of 747s to reach their new homes.

Panorama of the Enola Gay, this bomber is the one that launched the world’s first nuclear strike in combat, the first in a series of nuclear strikes against Japanese cities that would culminate in the ending of World War II. Named for the pilot’s mother.

I found myself having a moment of pause as I stared at the bomb hatch doors. When these doors opened up the world would not be the same…

A newspaper from the time, and below, a video about the Enola Gay pilot who died aged 92 only last year.

Now, when we think of high technology from World War II we often only think of the atomic bomb. In the final months of the war, the Nazis had developed jet aircraft and rocket powered fighters. Here, a Nazi Messerschmitt Me 163 rocket powered fighter.

A panorama of a wall of military aircraft machine guns.

A shot of a WWII era plane’s nose with machine guns. I cannot remember the specifications of this plane.

Panorama of a Lockheed Constellation or ‘Connie’. Civilian airliner and military transport during the Berlin Airlift.

Air France Concorde Panorama shots.

The only surviving example of a Boeing 307 Stratoliner. The world’s first pressurised cabin passenger aircraft. This one has Pan Am livery, and seeing this made me picture Alec Baldwin playing the Pan Am boss Juan Trippe talking to Leonardo DiCaprio’s Howard Hughes through a door in the film The Aviator.

Panorama of a Soviet Mig.

Below, some assorted shots of aircraft engines and engine parts from the propulsion exhibit.

Below, a selection of space suits, helmets and gloves from the space exhibit.

A child sized astronaut suit designed for a publicity tour in the 1960s.

A space suit test dummy.

This is the control panel of a very early computer used by NASA. It reminds me of the computer from the film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where the computer prints out a statement that reads “what would a computer do with a lifetime supply of chocolate?”.

This control console was used by NASA to communicate with, fly and move a planetary probe.

More consoles and control panels from various space experiments.

A science module, placed in the payload hold of a Space Shuttle, where Astronauts carried out experiments during a shuttle mission.

Five years old, This is a Raytheon RIM 161 Standard Missile 3 anti-ballistic missile defence missile. This ship based missile is a three-stage antiballistic missile that carries a Lightweight Exoatmospheric Projectile Kinetic Warhead in its nose. This warhead homes in on and destroys other missiles, and also this missile system has been used in antisatellite missions to destroy satellites in low Earth orbit. Of course, the one you are seeing here has been rendered harmless.

Interesting to note the evolution of the missile, here is an early German missile with wooden fins.

The theme of advanced weapons from World War II continues, with this Yokosuka E14Y seaplane from Japan. It was held on board Japanese submarine aircraft carriers. Yes, there were submarines that had planes inside them, in World War II. I did not know this. The captain of the submarine that housed this plane visited the Udvar Hazy center museum a couple of years ago, I was told by a tour guide. He told museum staff that the only purpose of this aircraft carried on his submarine was for kamikaze suicide attacks against US warships. This example was captured by the Americans at the war’s end.

This is a Japanese balloon bomb from World War II. Launched from Japan and designed to be unguided and be carried by the jet stream across the pacific to America, between November 1944 and April 1945, Japan launched over 9,300 of these balloons. About 300 balloon bombs were found or observed in North America, the single lethal attack was the killing of a pregnant woman and her five children, who discovered the balloon in an Oregon forest. The only known deaths in the continental United States from enemy action during World War II. Hawaii excluded. It is figured hundreds of these may lie unxploded and undiscovered deep in rarely trafficked parts of the Oregon and California forests.

A CIA transmitter disguised as dog poo, used during the Vietnam war.

A Japanese Kamikaze ‘manned missile’. Designed never to land.

These are the floatation devices attached to the Apollo 11 module upon return from the moon, it needed to float while the astronauts waited for the ship to come pick them up from the water.

The actual quarantine trailer that the first men on the moon had to live in for a few days upon return from the moon. It was erroneously thought that such a thing as ‘moon germs’ might exist. And to be safe, this precaution was taken. The practice was later abandoned as NASA learned there was no such thing as ‘moon germs’.

Apollo 11 Quarantine Trailer, interior.

An early concept model from NASA for the space shuttle, late 1960s.

One of the most fascinating sections of the museum for me was the one on the golden age of airships. A hundred years ago, the rich could float slowly over days-long journeys from New York to Berlin. These blimps had giant cabins, sometimes three stories high, with ornate lounges and dining areas. Even grand pianos were to be found on board. Here we have some fine china salvaged from the wreck of the Hindenburg disaster.

Airship over Manhattan early 1930s.

Charles Lindbergh’s flying goggles.

Like I said, I stayed there until the place closed. Lights out.

If you read and looked at ALL THAT, you officially have a good attention span. Washington was wonderful. It is a place of monuments, museums and artifacts, where you can see all of America’s achievements and history all in the one place.

Scroll down for a SHORT blog post on Philadelphia.

Going all the way to Baltimore,  hope it won’t be raining when I get there.

…was an allusion to a couple of songs, namely Mark Erelli’s wonderful “Baltimore”, and Counting Crows’ “Raining in Baltimore.”  Erelli’s song I have alluded to before and is one of the great driving-all-night-to-see-my-girl songs, with the twist that on this occasion the girl in question is going to need a lot of convincing when he gets there.  Probably best not to look (or smell) like you’ve just driven all night then, really.  The latter is an unsung gem from August and Everything After, a paean to the joys and gut-wrenching impossibility of long-distance love.

Have decided not to do Tennessee after all but to fly on to Washington DC, then possibly Boston by train if I think I have time, on the way back to NYC.  Have decided I will have had enough of the south by the end of this week, and need to return to somewhere you can question both Richard Nixon and God; neither is really permissible here in Texas…

And not only that, but I was positively looking forward to a return to the northeast corridor.

To be precise, I’m off to Baltimore, Maryland, which is about 35 miles from DC.  Ordinary mortals can’t really afford to stay in DC, the hotels are full of congressmen, aides and business types, and the cheaper accommodation looks v dubious.  Baltimore, on the other hand, is on the shores of Chesapeake Bay and rather lovely in its own right, regardless of the fact that it is 45 minutes/$14 on the train from DC and about half the price to stay in.

Once I get to Baltimore, all travel will be by train; New England and the capital area have functional trains, unlike TX.  I can get

to any of Washington, Philadelphia, New York and Boston via Amtrak, so no more planes for a while.

Somewhere Over Middle America

My joy at the existence of trains in the northeast corridor shows just how tired of airport routine I had become.  I’m better than most at it, and clung to the romance of air travel long after most started moaning.

I will never truly stop loving the actual moment of takeoff, and I do my best to get window seats so I can look out at the modern miracle of flight in action. That said, along comes a moment like my transfer at Charlotte, NC and I wonder why I bother.  Starting from the back row of the Dallas flight didn’t help, pinned into my seat by the stereotypical dangerously obese American air passenger (who spent the entire flight conversing with the hostess about his chiropractor) and the endless stream of wheeled bags in the overhead lockers (the by-product of charging for checked baggage).  That our flight came in at gate 21 (the far end) in one terminal and the Baltimore/Washington plane left from gate 21 in the other meant simply that those of us attempting said transfer were going to travel the entire length of CLT.  While the aforementioned gentleman pondered aloud to his hostess companion whether he could catch a lift on one of the golf-cart-luggage-transporter things, the rest of us set off,  carefully picking to run behind people who looked brave enough to yell at their fellow Americans to stand on the right please.  Skin-of-the-teeth stuff, but I made it, as did my bag.

My room in Wilson House

My B&B in Baltimore was amazing; having been held up at baggage claim, I called ahead to assure them that I would be arriving, but might be late.  The kindly man on the phone told me which stop to get off the light rail and came to pick me up!  The hospitality was good from that moment on really; I was offered a glass of wine while he showed me his art collection, then given a good dinner recommendation and directions.   Nice to be somewhere like that rather than a hotel.

The hallway was flanked by two rooms; on the left, a narrow dining room with the kitchen beyond, and on the right a living room.  A grand piano dominated the near end of this right-hand room, the centre had a number of chairs arranged around a coffee table, all looked antique (I lack the knowledge to tell you how old, but it seemed in keeping with the Victorian house) and the walls were festooned with paintings.  Having handed me a glass of a very passable Cabernet, Guy (owner and proprietor) proceeded to guide me around the artworks.  Each had a story behind it, from the genuine (if anonymous) Italian Renaissance oil painting of the Venetian lagoon to the Japanese engravings and the psychedelic South American jungle painting on the opposite wall.  Once I mentioned where I had come from, the conversation veered from art to history and the Kennedy assassination; Guy recommended a book on the subject that had him convinced (make of it what you will!). We discussed his military career, his recent work for the US Coastguard in Washington, my choice of degree and job prospects, all most welcome.  Eventually, feeling the wine going to my empty stomach, I drew the conversation to close (it might well have continued indefinitely!) and asked where a man might find food at this hour (perhaps half-past nine by that point).  Directions duly received I dashed up to my room, donned my grey linen jacket and made my way into the pleasantly warm Baltimore night.

I strolled down, found the corner of Mount Royal and Charles and, as promised, food. Enjoying an ecstatic excitement far out of proportion to the reality, I reclaimed the freedom of the lone traveller and sat down at the bar.  Feeling once more like I was in a sitcom or music video I sat there drinking Yuengling and eating a cheeseburger, watching a football game and soaking a couple of hours of Americana before bedtime.

My first morning in Baltimore is best described in pictures.  Pictures of the churches, beautiful apartments and tenement buildings, statues and monuments that make up the north side of the city.  America began to look older, more European.  Here, for the first time, I saw the material legacy of the men and the wars that shaped the nation.  I also saw Baltimore as a city; unlike everywhere I had been and would go, it felt somehow ordinary in size; it had a concert hall and a university, but they weren’t gargantuan or world-famous.  It was, all the same, rather lovely on a blue-sky morning.

From there I walked down to the Inner Harbour area, which will have a vaguely familiar feel to anyone who’s been to any other waterfront regeneration project; slightly forced, but quite pleasant if you’re prepared to ignore the tacky bits.  I tolerated the shopping centre just long enough to get myself a freshly squeezed lemonade, then sat on a bench and took in the view, back to the garish shops, facing instead the restored USS Constellation.

Soon enough though, it was time to get to the main event; Baltimore was but a dormitory town for me (not to mention countless thousands who no doubt do likewise) useful for its proximity to the capital.  So, from Pennsylvania Station Baltimore to Union Station Washington, a quick and easy task even for someone with no experience of the Amtrak system.  Every system has its peculiarities, of course; as far as I could see it was impossible to buy an open return, so I settle d for a single and the knowledge that I could buy my trip back with next-to-no notice.  45 minutes later and right on time, I arrived in Washington.  Union Station is the headquarters of Amtrak and the gateway to Washington, and it is built on a scale to reflect both of these facts.  Its epic white granite neo-classical arches stretch improbably high and lend lightness to the space.  In the middle of one half of this giant court sits a restaurant, an oval-shaped two-storey wooden cake affair with staircases running up both ends.

Leaving Union Station, the hapless tourist is faced with very little risk of getting lost.  You walk straight out the door and up Delaware Ave and the Capitol rises from behind the trees, glinting in the sunlight.  Or, in my case, looking slightly grey in the ugly, flat light of a day that had suddenly turned overcast  From there, strung out for one’s delectation along the National Mall are the Washington Monument, the Smithsonian Museum, the Lincoln Memorial and, across the Potomac, Arlington National Cemetery.  I wandered, took photos and marvelled at a particular sort of human being that I imagine you don’t find anywhere other than the square mile around the Capitol.  Between 15 and 25 years old, dressed immaculately in preppy east-coast smart-casual and wearing name-tags.  Some of them were corralled into groups and were posing for photos in front of the Senate, others walked down under the trees in front of the building.  Chinos (slacks) and blazers abounded, with tailored trouser (pant) suits for the girls.  In the case of the younger ones, they were often in clothes that belonged to their parents, or at least had been bought three sizes too big in the hope that they might last.  One can only assume they were on various trips, placements and/or internships with their congressman/senator/lobbyist and striving desperately to blend in.

Having observed this little swarm for long enough, I ventured into Washington proper for lunch and a few practical items, not least fountain pen ink, something I was fast running out of.  The complete absence of this substance, coupled with the rarity of internet cafes and a protracted stay in what was perhaps the largest Borders I had ever seen meant that all of a sudden it was 4pm.  I hit the subway (thereby having to comprehend my second mass transit system in about 6 hours) and headed for the place I had in mind as my final destination for the day, Arlington.  The leading edge of the rush hour combined with “technical difficulties” meant that by the time I got there it was nearly 5pm.  Plenty of time, I thought, but apparently not.  Winter opening hours meant the Cemetery was closing, but with hindsight I’m not in the least bit frustrated because of what followed.  Able to take my time crossing back across the Potomac on foot, I shot about 150 frames in an hour and half as the sky delivered a spectacular light show backdrop. My stay in the state of Virginia had been brief, but photographically rewarding, and I knew I could come back the following morning.

Washington Monument

I watched the sun set over the Lincoln Memorial and walked up to see the man himself and, more importantly, read his words.  Having never studied the period, I had made it this far without ever reading the Gettysburg address, and so I stood in the shadow of the great figure and considered the words on the wall.   The power of those words, that idealism, hit home, not least in terms of my admiration for Lincoln as wordsmith; the way the speech pivots around the idea of “dedication”, referring first to the nation’s commitment to its ideals, then to the specific act of dedicating, of giving over the land at Gettysburg as a burial ground, then hinging on that same word, bringing it back to where he began:

“It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us”

Sunset over the Lincoln Memorial

I was ripe for it, what with my fascination with the place coupled with a spectacular lightshow across the Potomac bathing the monument in golden glow, but I was moved by his words.

I returned to Union Station and made my way to the ticket machines.  Facing either an expensive ticket or an hour’s wait, I opted for the latter and went to investigate where I might find dinner.  As it turned out, the big oval restaurant-island had two things going for it; it wasn’t as expensive as it looked like it ought to be and it had Pilsner Urquell on tap; real Czech pilsner in the land of Miller Lite, a blessing not to be sniffed at.  I drank my pint and ate my chicken, basking in the magnificence of being a few metres closer to the arches and their sculptures.

Day 2

Having got used to internet on tap whilst in Texas, I suddenly found myself without, and this was a problem.  I relied on the internet to plan the next phase of the trip, to book rooms, research destinations.  Absurd as it may seem, finding some internet without the internet is surprisingly difficult!  A couple of transatlantic text messages later, I had a couple of addresses to try, and at the second one I eventually found what I had been searching for.  I wrote to my father, thanking him for the directions!

Greetings from 1719 Connecticut Ave!  The place on 17th no longer exists, but I’m glad I came out here, it’s a lovely neighbourhood full of cafes and interesting record/bookshops that I’d never have found otherwise.

The internet café on Connecticut was just off Dupont Circle, and I walked back there to have lunch in a pizzeria before continuing.  As always when I sat alone, I wrote, both journal entries and, this time, working on the letters I was crafting to my friends in Texas.

From Dupont Circle I caught a subway out of the district and into Virginia, this time within the hours of Arlington National Cemetery and did what I’d come to do.

23^rd October
Arlington National Cemetery

The completion of a pilgrimage.  From the Kennedy gravesite you can see Lincoln and Washington, the Capitol in the distance.  The sickening reality hits home, that his place was not here but there, treading an eight-year path towards a monument of his own on that Mall.  America, land of everlasting hope, lost its greatest hope for a generation.

I did manage to do the Smithsonian Air and Space, which was great fun.  I think men never truly lose their boyhood fantasies of flying jet planes and spaceships, and the place is made for indulging such fantasies.

Time, once more, to give in to the inner tourist.  I queued to look into the sliced-open cockpit of a 747, I leaned over barriers to get a few millimetres closer to the Spirit of St Louis and, the Bell X-1.  I was awed by bits of the Apollo missions and real pieces of moon rock.  A few moments later I was astounded to find a Spitfire, a Messerschmitt 109 and a P-51 Mustang in one room.  This is the stuff that my 9-year-old self’s dreams were made of!  Brought up within earshot of an airport, planes were something that I had grown up with.  Some of my earliest clear memories are being taken to watch Concorde take off.   Just before I left my parents’ house, the resident Spitfire had been up (there is a restored Spitfire based out of EMA, and it seems the pilot likes to use the airspace over the villages to warm up a little before disappearing off to wherever it is to perform that day); it looped and dived over our house, terrifying my mother and keeping my father and I enraptured as we stood on the backyard watching in awe.  I hadn’t seen a P-51 since I was taken to the Imperial War Museum in London, aged all of about twelve.  There is something about it that screams muscle car! It’s an eloquent statement of the difference between the two nations; given the Merlin engine, Britain builds the Spitfire and America the Mustang.

DC-3

At that moment, there weren’t a great many things that could have made me desire to be anywhere else in the world.  One of them, however, was a message from a good friend of mine describing exactly what she was choosing from the menu at the trattoria she was sat outside in Venice. It still makes me smile.

On the train back to Baltimore I fell to talking with a woman.   Well, to be precise we started talking in the queue.  She approached the back of said queue and asked me if it was the right train.  Having explained that this was only the second time I had caught a train from Union Station,  that I was a good 4000 miles from home and that, therefore, I probably wasn’t one to trust on such matters, we started talking about trains.  Laughing at herself, and a little at the hapless Englishman no doubt, we chatted as the queue snaked towards the gate to the platform.  She began to tell me, in that delightfully confident, forthright manner that New Yorkers (for that’s what she was) have, that she had commuted to Washington from New York every day for three years since her job moved there.   By the time we eventually made it to the train we were practically old friends (deduce what you will about the length of the queue!) and I sat down opposite her in a just-enough-space-to-ignore-one-another-if-we-felt-like-it kind of arrangement, and I watched as subtly as I dare as she went about her life, eating from the buffet car because she didn’t have time to do it at either end of her journey, still working at 9pm and not home until after 11.

From my cosy bedroom in Wilson House, and on trains, I write letters to all three sisters back in north Texas.  To Kellie, my old friend, I write of the music I listened to on the flight out of Dallas, climbing through turbulence and lashing rain listening to the songs we’d played in the car.  In my journal I had written

…got my headphones up high
Can’t numb you, can’t drum you out of my mind

“This Flight Tonight” – Joni Mitchell

But of course I was trying nothing of the sort.  I sought out the music and reinforced the associations, staring out of the window at Texas disappearing behind me and hurting from the bonds I had made, reinforced and now torn away.

You can’t get enough
I’m gonna be somebody…
I’m gonna make you love me…

“Be Somebody” – Kings of Leon

Only By The Night has a new resonance now, a deep red Texan sunset, driving fast down narrow roads towards the bonfire, singing along, harmonizing instinctively.  Sinister, flame-licked night drive.  A screaming statement of intent, of desire to stand out from the crowd, escape one’s background and transcend the mediocrity of one’s surroundings.  I should not be in the least bit surprised that it is now so tightly bound up with my idea of Kellie.

To the others, a balancing act between light banter and a careful attempt at expressing how much it had meant to be accepted into a family.  Claire had left me a note outside my door, decrying my having bade Chrissie farewell and then disappeared.  Being in the bath was no excuse, it seemed, to have missed her out.

Before I left I explored Wilson House a little more. The house sprawled upwards.  Landings led to bedrooms but also to assorted shared living areas, each furnished and scattered with televisions, magazines, books and art.

My last morning in Baltimore came around all too soon, and I found myself checking out of Wilson House and wandering down into the city.  I faced the daunting prospect that I had known might come given my haphazard planning; nowhere to go.  Having arrived at the addresses of two internet cafes that no longer existed, I asked at a newsagent.  Stepping out of the rain and buying orange juice, the guy took pity on my fruitless search and let me borrow his computer for a few minutes.  I got the phone number for The Pod and took the first room they offered me, at heinous expense and for one night only.  By this point I was beyond clear thought and needed familiarity, and in this world I’d created for myself, E51st stood for all of those things.