TakeBetsywithyou

A day later…still in DC. Turns out the pop-up storm on Wednesday eve while I was at National Airport screwed up flights and now I am flying to…Chicago. (I was going to Chicago on Saturday morning. Post-storm on Wednesday, I couldn’t get another flight to Des Moines until Friday p.m. so I decided to fly early to Chicago Thursday and went back to the DC hotel Wednesday night, where D was staying one more night. Of course later I found out I could have gotten to DSM very late Wednesday because my connecting flight from St. Louis was delayed in departing…earlier in the night it was first delayed and then back on time just as I was planning to leave DC, meaning I would have missed my connection. Mine was one of many sob stories. Lots of airport confusion.)

From last night: It’s pouring outside the floor to ceiling windows of National Airport so hoping my Southwest flight is not delayed. I spent much of my day at the elegant Library of Congress, where I met with a very nice and interesting archivist who specializes in women’s manuscripts. I walked around the imposing and ornate library feeling a bit intimidated, which I think is the idea, and visited an exhibit comparing British and American suffragettes. Also heard a short lecture on the topic presented by the archivist I later interviewed.

We ended up walking through a long underground tunnel to the Dunkin’ Donuts in the bowels of the Madison Building. Quite the contrast with the above ground library. Felt like I was in the guts of the place.

It was blazing hot when I left around 3 pm and I hadn’t eaten lunch so I went to the cafe in the American Indian museum, which had slim pickings’ but I got some vegetarian chili and fry bread and enjoyed the view of running water over stones out the window.

I made a mistake en route to the airport, by taking the blue line Metro from L’enfant Plaza, which was 13 stops/28 minutes vs 4 stops/14 minutes on the Yellow line. Fortunately I had plenty of time. The sky appears to be clearing!

The National Portrait Gallery knew what I was looking for…

Thanks to a Washington Post story about good dining options near the National Mall (and, as it happens, the Holiday Inn Capital, where we are bunking), I ended up at the chic coffee bar in the lobby of the Hirshhorn, drinking an Americano over ice (it’s blazing hot here) and eavesdropping on a docent greeting a large group of very cute summer campers visiting the museum. Kids also were entranced by a kid-size talking robot holding an iPad that greeted them in the lobby. Kids young and teen tapped prompts on the iPad that allowed them to, among other things, take a selfie with the robot. Very interactive.

I ended up wandering a bit around the museum, which I haven’t been to in years and enjoyed the contemporary art including an installation by a Thai artist rirkrit tiravanija, that includes black and white protest murals covering the four walls of a boxy room with hot plates on a table in the middle of the room where word has it red, yellow and green curry are served on some days. Not sure what the message is but again, interactive.

On to the National Portrait Gallery to see the Obama portraits but there was so much more to see there too. I ended up on a docent-led highlights tour full of great information about the grand building’s history and the portraits of presidents and famous Americans through the years. The building is also home to the National Museum of American Art which has a broad collection of art through the ages and a spectacular atrium with a cafe. Thoroughly enjoyed my visit.

Dirck had early release from work so he joined me for lunch at the Red Apron, which specializes in cured meats. We had a good charcuterie board and excellent fries cooked in duck fat, followed a few hours later by refreshing fruit (rhubarb!) sorbet at nearby Pitango.

After lots of walking in the heat, a plunge in the hotel’s rooftop pool was great, even with the tepid water temp. Next stop Adams Morgan for middle eastern fare at Mama Ayesha’s with Noah, Rachel and Laurie and a drink at a little cafe called Tryst. We walked thru the shabby chic Line Hotel, a revived 1912 former Neoclassical church with high columns, that seems to be more bars than hotel. (“The 220 guest rooms are located in a contextual addition behind the original building,” as one report put it.)

Despite indications to the contrary, we easily entered the fantastic new (to us) National Museum of African American History and Culture on a Monday in June at 11:30 am. So glad. I had found getting passes via the museum ‘s website frustrating. At 6:30 am on the dot I tried to get same day online passes, with no luck. I tried again at 9:30 am and they were still unavailable so we walked over to the museum at 11:30 and a nice young greeter showed us how to get passes and we were in (even though walk-ins technically can’t get in until 1 pm.)

As warned, the museum is hard to do in a day. There is so much to see. We were there for 3.5 hours and saw maybe half. Our visit included lunch of fried chicken at the museum cafeteria-style restaurant. We did the history part first, which starts underground and rises up 2 more floors. It was packed with people, especially the early bits and apparently cramped and claustrophobic by design. I would have liked to spend more time in the 1950 ‘s exhibits and onward because that’s the history I like best, I think because I lived it and, as a result, it’s fascinating to see how it is chronicled and depicted.

There were several moving moments but what made me cry quietly was the procession we took past Emmet Till’s casket with the devastating photos of his grief-stricken, furious and brave mother. One of the most memorable sites from a drive around the Mississippi countryside with Dirck was the old storefront, now abandoned and covered with vines, on a country road where young Emmet got into trouble, allegedly, that led to his murder.

It was also very moving to see the history exhibit end with Obama’s inauguration, all the more so given the poisonous climate cultivated by his shockingly race-baiting successor in the White House. It will be interesting to see what the museum makes of the Trump Administration. Shame.

The fountain in the National Gallery Sculpture Park, after getting ice tea at the pavilion cafe

After lunch at the museum, we went to the culture exhibit on the top floor, which was my favorite area because I love “black” music, tv, movies, art and pop culture. I could have spent another hour there but my back was starting to ache.

I have been to civil rights museums/memorials/landmarks (in Memphis, Birmingham, Money, Mississippi) music museums highlighting black musicians (stax records and sun records in Memphis; Motown in Detroit; Jazz in Davenport Iowa and the Rock n roll hall of fame in Cleveland; the blues museum in clarksdale, Ms.) I’ve even been on the new plantation in NOLA that focuses entirely on slavery. So I have seen some of the artifacts and displays found at the new DC museum. But the difference is seeing it all together in one place, and what a place. The building is very striking inside and out, with fantastic art, artifacts, displays and city views. I also felt like a minority, which is an unusual experience and probably good to have. The place felt like it belonged to African-Americans and I am guessing (or hoping) they feel a real sense of belonging and pride there. I didn’t feel unwelcome but it’s not my place or my story.

Sisters in The Palisades

Last night, Noah and I had good innovative Indian food at Rasika West. I later discovered a Rasika nearer to our hotel, the conveniently located holiday inn Capital near the national air and space museum on the National Mall. The hotel also has a rooftop outdoor pool with a view of the US Capitol. Not Cayuga Lake but good place to cool off.

Plunged right into the thick of things here, soon after arriving in DC, by joining a gathering next to the impenetrable-looking White House to protest the current occupant’s harsh treatment of asylum seekers and migrants at the southern border, including the separation of children from their families and their placement in detention camps. The lights for Liberty rally wasn’t the Women’s March but a decent turnout and some good signs and impassioned speeches. Will it have any impact?

Noah, Rachel and I went to a nearby Peruvian restaurant, Pisco Y Nazca, for an excellent late night meal (causa sampler, ceviche, arroz con mariscos, aji de gallina) sitting outside in the still somewhat steamy weather.

My sister has moved to a lovely house in the Palisades, a leafy neighborhood on the Potomac just north of Georgetown and west (I think) of Arlington, Va. Whole different orientation to the city (and required Uber…no metro.) We went over to Rachel and Noah’s apt in Columbia Heights and for light lunch (bun) at a nearby Vietnamese restaurant, Pho Viet, then tried to find a shady street in the soupy heat to walk down in the pretty mount pleasant neighborhood, with big brick houses, row house with porches and crepe myrtle trees in riotous color (all shades of red and purple). We stopped at a trendy bakery/cafe/bar called Elle and then Uber pooled (with no extra passengers) back to The Palisades.

On a hit and humid Sunday we walked about 15 minutes to the Palisades farmers market which had heirloom tomatoes, blueberries, raspberries and pastries for our brunch and dinner, with two of our former campaign worker/lodgers. Fun!