Philadelphia, Fort Worth (Dallas) & Houston: Trash to Trains & Everything in Between

It has been quite a while. A couple of months actually.

When I was on official "work" travel, I found myself with a couple of hours of downtime to start to put some of my thoughts down on some digital paper.

I'll actually start where I found myself up in Philadelphia for New Years, and then soon after again for a birthday party. I didn't realize I'd come to like Philly so much. So many parts of the city are in such stark urban contrast to Washington DC that I cannot help but keep visiting and experiencing the total opposites in cleanliness, income, and geography.

To paint a picture: Philadelphia city is mostly located between the Schuylkill and Delaware Rivers, with parts fanning northward like a Wi-Fi symbol from Central City, and other neighborhoods radiating westward up from the banks and slopes of the Schuylkill. I haven't been to too many parts of the city, but of the parts I have seen: Most are trashy and unkempt. There is usually some form of paper garbage blowing around, with other unsightly objects in unlit street corners of abandoned buildings. The household income is significantly lower than that of DC, meaning there is a lot less in taxes being invested into the city to keep things clean and maintained. DC hovers around $93,294, whereas Philadelphia sits around $65,123. (Source) Philadelphia also has a lot less intentional green space. I was in Manayunk where the extremely tight townhouses and steep hillside only channeled the wind to bring in anything light enough to fly. I did end up taking the transit, as you do when you're in a new place, and the difference in trolley versus high speed versus Regional Rail shows the income stratification among the city and the suburbs.

The streetcars of Philadelphia have been preserved, to some degree, and still robustly serve the city. They are bleached from the sun, and old and worn from almost 40 years of service now. The routes serve Southwest Philadelphia along with a line serving some Northeastern neighborhoods. They all come together in Center City in tunnels that link them to the high speed intercity lines as well as the commuter rail and Amtrak. The lines are rickety (in good streetcar fashion) and are usually filled with people of color from some of the lower income neighborhoods in the city.

The high speed lines are faster, but serve some of the harder hit industrially collapsed areas of North and South Philadelphia. The lines are much more cluttered and dirty than the trolleys, but they also hold more people, and have their own dedicated tracks.

Finally, there is the Regional Rail. Have you ever seen the scene of Children of Men where Theo is riding into the city and the armored train he is on is being pelted by people throwing things as it passes? My ride into Philadelphia from Manayunk had that same feeling of the high class train offering protection and isolation from the urban wastes it was passing through. (There wasn't actually anybody throwing things at the train though. Just to clear that up.)

Regional Rail does not stop many places in Philadelphia proper. Granted, the goal is to ferry in commuters from the suburbs, but there is much more than simple geography as a difference. Regional Rail cars are painfully clean and sanitized, and have comfortable front and back facing seats (as opposed to seats on the sides looking in on the car.) When I boarded I was no longer the only young white guy on the car. So many faces and mannerisms matched mine, it took me a couple of seconds to remember I was in Philadelphia and not Washington DC. Most of the line was elevated; even the physicality of the train was elevated so it was looking down on the city as it came in.



Now onto Texas. Texas is an entirely different type of animal. I have been through Texas before, but didn't really stop to smell the roses. I was hightailing it over to New Orleans to enjoy some drinking and debauchery with my sweetheart and other college friends and affiliates. (Public drinking all. It's a raucous thing.) So here I am, first serious time in Texas. My first stop, and hotel, is located directly in downtown Fort Worth. I don't think I can gush enough about Fort Worth and Sundance Square:

Imagine you are driving across a flat plain with suburbs in all directions; each house nearly identical in design, color, and shape. Then you roll into this generic looking downtown, complete with a couple of skyscrapers and parking garages. But as soon as you get out of the car and go out to dinner, your entire perspective changes. Instead of wide streets and large buildings blocking out the sun, you are greeted by just enough open space to make it not feel cluttered, and neon signs and beautiful streets with lights hanging across pedestrian walkways into a central square. It was nowhere close to what I was expecting from my first experience in Texas.

It's warm, but not humid, and the breeze is just nice enough to walk about with a jacket without being overheated. The fountains are on, the soft light radiating around the square. People out on the patios drinking and enjoying their dinner and evening. It is quite a sight.

The city is very clean, very concise, and just very well kept up for that clean folksy Sunday's best dress look. There are lots of neon signs everywhere for all the businesses, so it's obviously a motif that the city and development corporation has done to bring together the look-and-feel of the town. I like it. I ended up getting dinner and a couple of beers with co-workers and relaxing out on the square enjoying the company and food.

I took a bikeshare from the hotel down to the old train station. Yeah, it was a 20 minute walk, but I wanted to give B-Cycle a try. Also I just wanted to do some biking.

I also remembered that the Omni hotel chain got started in the Dallas/Fort Worth region.

The next afternoon we ended up wrapping up our work interviews early, so I decided to head over on the Trinity Railway Express (TRE) to Dallas. Dallas and Fort Worth are not too far apart on the map, about 30 miles or so, and the two cities have a commuter railway between them. I didn't know what to expect, but I was pleasantly surprised for it being a regional commuter train in Texas. (Which I didn't think Texas had any of those.) The cars were the same style as the MARC train cars between DC and Baltimore: Bi-level, with doors on either end of each car. Most trains were only two cars in length, but the fact that they had a train at all is the important part. The difference between MARC trains and TRE trains is that the TRE trains had tables.

I'm really glad I left through the T&P Station rather than through the Intermodal Center because I got to see this beautiful building with all of it's guild and heavy geometric art-deco architecture,

Tables.

You wouldn't believe the difference tables makes on a regional commuter line. They give you space to work (on free Wi-Fi provided in the train), along with a structure to lean on and use so you're not awkwardly carrying things in your lap. Tables also get rid of seat dividers (because of the need to slide in and out) and make train seats much more comfortable. TL:DR- Tables = good.

Once in Dallas, I saw the John F. Kennedy assassination site, and then checked out Klyde Warren Park. I had gotten two recommendations to go see this park, so I knew I had to check it out. I took the DART light rail train up from Union Station to a connection with the M Line, a heritage streetcar line. (In actuality I could have just walked to the park from the light rail line, but come on. Who doesn't want to see a heritage streetcar?)

TRE & DART Together at Union Station

Founders Plaza and the JFK Memorial

Another shot of Union Station, this time empty.

The M-Line Trolley Car

Klyde Warren Park is a strange green oasis in the concrete fabric of Dallas. It's literally a park they built on top of the interstate. The greenspace gives Pedestrians a ton of space for lawns, and includes its own restaurant/patio (conveniently sponsored by Southwest Airlines!) The space was actually being used too! There were families playing soccer on the lawns, people sitting on the benches and talking, kids in the playground area, and there was even a free books & games area for older kids. There was a fair share of artwork and sculptures too, seeing as though the park is adjacent to the local art museum.

Panorama of Downtown Dallas from the park.

Southwest Airlines Patio

Table games and space for lunch at one end of the park. Past the nature you can see a stream of cars entering flowing under the park during evening rush hour.

Rib Structure Things with Lights on one side of the park.

Entrance sign to Klyde Warren Park

After the park and memorial I was getting hungry, so I stopped by the Pizza Lounge to get some dinner. The Pizza Lounge is located in Fair Park, right across from the DART Light Rail Station. I didn't know then, but apparently Fair Park is considered a "dangerous"/sketchy part of town. I didn't find it at all strange, but I did notice a running theme throughout the weekend. I would go off on adventures and my co-workers would give me a side eye like I was crazy. I can't say for certain, but I can definitely tell it has something to do with race and perception of transit in general (be it bus, rail, or otherwise) being a "dirty" place, where only those who use it are the ones who have to use it, and therefore you should ignore using it unless you absolutely have to. Time after time I saw actual physical repulsion from my co-workers when I mentioned taking the train and bus into the city (whether it be the "nice" commuter train to Dallas, or the 102 IAH Express from the hotel (more on that later) to Downtown Houston.

On that note: Houston. I don't know what to think about Houston. The drive in on the bus reminded me of my taxi ride into Barcelona. When I was driving into Barcelona the highway we took into the city provided the perfect views and driving introduction to the city. From the airport the taxi climbed a hill which was lined with taller office buildings; pedestrian & auto bridges crossing every now and then broke up the warm Mediterranean sun. The taxi then popped out on the other side of the hill in an almost cartoonish and comic-y way. The city stretched before us with it's tiled roofs and sharp modern skyscrapers. I was kind of star-struck by that time, and I can't remember much of the actual surface streets of the city. (But I would get to know that in due time with my study abroad trip.)

Houston was the same feeling, but with different content. The bus crested a hill on the highway, and the downtown was right there, it's skyscrapers... lining the horizon? It was something that I had never seen before. The simple and sheer amount of buildings taller than 11 stories is something I'm not use to here in The District. I looked around and there were other skyscrapers off in the distance, the far flung suburb cities of Houston that I did not realize were suburb cities instead of suburb suburbs. I knew the city was big, but I wasn't expecting it to be that large.

The entrance to Intercontinental Airport, and where our hotel was. Pedestrian infrastructure was terrible, but at least it was there. It was also convenient the bus picked up right across the street from our hotel.

The 102 IAH Express was, at least for the rush commute hours, a Greyhound style bus with plush seats, reading lights, and high clearance. Made for a very posh ride into town.

When I got into downtown I took it on recommendation to check out the Menil Collection, a private stash of art free and open to the public in the middle of the Montrose residential neighborhood not far from downtown. One hop, skip, and jump on the light rail to a local bus and I was there. Well, there may have been risking of life and limb on some really terrible pedestrian infrastructure along the way, but heck! It's Houston, what else was I expecting?

One close up example of tree routes in the sidewalk.

A large view of basically a bricked goat path.

Did find this gem on my way over though.
(Text reads: "Chicken Torta Sliders/ Can't Deporta The Torta/ <<We love you this much>>")

 The art collection was quite nice, with many impacting pieces. All of it was housed in an architectural "prairie style" house with a very boxed shape, low floors and risers leading up to the building. I actually spent some time going to other little galleries sprinkled around the neighborhood, including a collection of copies of a no longer surviving original portrait of a saint from the 18th century called the Fabiola Project. Another gallery, the Cy Twombly Gallery, included exhibits made out of paint, drywall, wood, and other construction materials. I wasn't able to see the Rothko Chapel, but I did get some photos of the monument to the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. outside titled "The Broken Obelisk":

The Broken Obelisk

The outside of the Rothko Chapel with a group doing Tai Chi outside.
The actual chapel itself was closed for a special service.

After enjoying some art I headed back to downtown to an underground beer garden and restaurant court called The Conservatory. There were literal plants on the walls, and all of the eateries were local establishments. The bar also had over 60 types of beer, including a couple of varieties of cider, one of which was a cider that was aged in rum barrels, which I enjoyed quite a lot. Of course I rode the bus and light rail back, and enjoyed every minute of it:

The caption above the entrance to The Conservatory. Text reads "No Ragrets", intentionally misspelled to pay homage to a meme of a tattoo which was misspelled. I'm also assuming it's referencing the fact The Conservatory is a bar where people go to have fun times and get inebriated.

That amazing cider I was talking about along with my dinner of black bean & vegetable crepes, carrots, and pretzel chips with beer mustard. Houston has some serious food game.

Shot of the Houston Metrorail pulling into the station. (I actually needed that train but didn't get there in time. It's a good thing the trains run more often than evening WMATA service!)

These suckers are slick. Shiny grey, all clean and streamlined design. Portland's MAX could take some pointers.

After food I waltzed over a couple of blocks to the bus stop to catch the ridiculously late running 102 IAH Express back to my hotel. (The bus runs until 1:30 AM! Granted it takes about 45 minutes to get out to the airport, but that's better than what Dulles is offering here in the DC metro area.) On my way over I took in the sites of Houston at night. It wasn't as glitzy or dazzling as Fort Worth, nor was it stock-market-banking-feeling as Dallas. Houston confused me. It's almost as if it is too big of a city (population wise and simple land area wise) to try and compare it to anything else. The city itself has a footprint of 667 square miles. It is uniquely Texan, Cajun (influenced from the gulf), Latinx (due to the massive numbers of immigrants coming into the city), and independent. Houston is considered the wild-west when it comes to zoning, which is how it's gotten to be so large. I can't tell if regulation-less environment and freedom for development is a positive or negative for innovation and growth.

Metrorail in Motion

The light rail tracks through downtown following Main Street.

I finally arrived back in DC and began processing the entire trip. I was in Texas for an entire work week, and I tasted what work travel was like. I think I like it? It allows me to go out and experience wherever we are working at night, and lets me experience new things, which is one of my favorite things to do. I might be okay with this indefinite commitment of a job for a while if it lets me do cool things like this.

Panorama of Mount Pleasant the Sunday after an All Souls service after I returned.

If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading. I know this was a longer post, but I hope you enjoyed the pictures and narrative. I know I haven't kept up with this blog for a while, but getting and settling into a new job has been quite tenuous, although I've liked it quite a lot. I'll try to keep up with it a little more now that I am a little more settled in, so expect some other cool stuff soon.

Identity in a Big City

I don't want to admit it, but on a sunny day like this in November, on the weekend with everyone running around having fun, I find that I really like Washington DC. The parts I've seen, the parts I like; they all seem "good" and wholesome. I know there is a sour history of gentrification all around the city, and I am a massive beneficiary of it, and that bothers me. But everything is just so god damn perfect, so... authentic.

The main street in the Mount Pleasant neighborhood.

But the notion of a perfect, or authentic, situation is total bullshit. That vision from Dupont Circle I mentioned above is only an illusion I cannot blind myself with. I cannot assume and ascribe my positive feelings to everyone in that park or in that neighborhood. I cannot ignore the plight of the homeless begging for change, or the small business that had to close, because neither of them could afford skyrocketing rents due to the rapid growth.

Strictly speaking, authenticity for a physical object has no value assigned to it. There is nothing inherently wrong or good with a physical object meeting a standard to which it is, or is not. We can afford to use binaries when it comes to physical objects in life.

Binary for a cat in a box: You collapsed the superposition of the cat, and, by observing it, you see it is alive.
Your binary outcome is: the cat is alive. The cat is not dead.

The conflict arises when people assign a values judgement to authenticity. And this does happen. How many times were you a tourist in a place and asked: "Where do the locals go? What is the 'authentic' <insert place here>? What are the 'real' things for this place?" I would argue there is an unconscious bias at play where people don't want the "fake stuff" because it isn't "true", and therefore, it isn't "good". But is it okay to use an authenticity binary when it comes to intangible experiences?

It's not fair to judge places and cultures as non-authentic, and therefore "bad", because they still are a lived reality for many people. To claim something is "authentic" is to assign a higher value to it. To demoralize the knock-offs and the phonies. But there are still people who enjoy and like those reproductions you are slanting. Claiming their experience is "not authentic" is to demean and eventually ignore or disregard their lived reality. Many people will "forget" the non-unique places they visit, and their thought process may be: "What's the use in remembering those places and cultures that aren't the truest and purest? They don't have anything to offer for me." (Should you think like this even if it provides joy and value to others who experience it?)

Tiny town of Martinsburg, right outside of the Altoona, PA Airport. Do you think this is a non-unique place?
Does this small town abide by your stereotypes of conservative backwater people who cling to their guns and religion, and therefore don't matter? Is it "authentic" in terms of being "American"?

How about 14th Street here in DC? Do you think this a non-unique place? Does this city shot look like a harbor of refuge in the reddening of our country via the election? To you does this look like the beacon of light on the hill, and is the only place/setting that matters to drive our country forward? Is it the most "authentic" (aka correct) in the American experience?

Here in DC the accelerated growth and migration into the city provides for the forgetting of previous residents' lived experiences. There are people moving in, prompting growth, pushing out, then denying other's lived experiences. The new dense development wrecks and drives out existing local businesses. Show owners simply cannot pay the new rents. Because of the new tenants' consumer preferences about needing "authentic" (not box stores) places to shop, cheap chain replacements cannot take hold (Walmart, Kmart, Dollar Stores, etc.), so even if low income earners can somehow keep/lock in their residence, you still can't afford to eat and shop in your neighborhood. The new growth pushes out old establishments, and ensures the low and middle class do not have a place, and cannot stay.

The place gets better, but only for those who can afford it. The others are forced to move the burbs.

Suburban Baltimore, Maryland. Where the houses are cheap, but the access is thin, and the services suck.

This is the crux for me: I really like the "new money" places, and I have the privilege to enjoy them. I'm white, therefore I fit in and conform with the "new" demographic. I'm solidly middle-class with my new job, so I have disposable income to spare at the "new" expensive "authentic" shops. I'm a male, who needs not to worry or care about my safety and well-being. I'm exactly what gentrification looks like.

Southwest Waterfront, a quickly gentrifying part of DC.

But I don't want to be that. I try to contribute to the remaining local institutions. I try to fight for inclusionary zoning and learn all I can about the history of where I am. But all the "new" aspects I like in these places have done harm to others. I am conflicted.

My front "lawn" in Vancouver, Washington

"So move to the burbs and do less harm there!" you may proclaim. But I hate the suburbs. I cannot deal with the car-centric, wide-open, wasteful lifestyles the design of the burbs demand. I especially cannot deal with those demands when the very suburbs lay at the city's doorstep. I gave it a whirl for two years, and I think that's why I eventually moved away. The inefficiency and boringness of it all really drained the life out of me. In order to do anything/go anywhere I had to drive on inefficient roads, or take inefficient light rail and a joke of a bus system. There was nothing immediately around my house except for more houses, and shuttered neighbors. The "neighborhood" looked like a small inviting town, but it was as shuttered and as isolated as a high-rise apartment complex. The politics were petty, and the identity lacking.

Example of petty politics: This damn bridge. As pretty as it's hundred year old steel is, it needs replaced. Yet the local governance rejected a replacement bridge mainly because it included light rail from Portland. There are some seriously ingrained racist and classist thoughts among the more conservative in Vancouver.

While I like to slam the suburbs, I will not say they are not "authentic". I mean, as I liked to say in college: They (the suburbs) exist for a reason, so somebody has to like living in them. And I'll take the high road. I will not discredit or insult the experience of living in a burb. It is nobody's place to slander another's lived reality. And therein lies my central conflict. How do I ensure that others have the option to live my experience? Or better yet, how do I work to ensure disadvantaged people get the chance to improve their communities without getting displaced and excluded in the process?

I have the very same above questions about Warren Wilson College. The answer for the school though is a little more simple. To help anyone who wants to experience the school I loved, I give money when I can, so it can go towards helping offer scholarships and opportunities for the students who need them.

The most important takeaway I can glean is that self-determination and empowerment are key here. What I want is to uncouple "development" from "displacement". I want those living in their communities to be able to decide how and where they want to entice growth. (Raising people out of poverty starts with those very people, not some external influence coming in to tell communities how to "get better.")

Me doing a "travel training" session with some employees at my former job. I teach people how to ride, and give them some possible tools and methods to succeed. They might not be entirely useful, but I'm trying my best.

I'll keep paying steep rents to live in a community I love, and in a city I adore. I'll frequent as many old establishments as I can, get all millennial and indulge in "hip" places every now and then, and indulge myself in generic corporate chain retail therapy when I feel like it. But mostly I'll keep to my regular routine: Buy the most affordable groceries I can find, fight for transit and access for all, and try to live my life as closely to me as I can.

A Looming Sense of Place, and A Reluctant Acceptance of Commitment

Well here we go again.

I have accepted a permanent position with the United States Department of Transportation, in the Office of the Inspector General's office. I applied for this position a while back, and after an interview, and some background checking, I have made the cut, and they offered me the position. It is a full-time position in the DOT headquarters in the beautiful Navy Yard/Ballpark area of DC. The offices are right by two of my favorite parks in DC, and the job is working on the audit side of things to evaluate the effectiveness of different transportation projects throughout the United States. Here's a view of the Anacostia Riverwalk and The Yards park, right south of DOT headquarters:

Because I've take a permanent position for the foreseeable future, the imminent questions of my decision to root in DC are coming to the forefront of my mind. Commitment is sort of terrifying for me. This time round it is doubly terrifying because I actually, genuinely, like the place I am in.

National Airport as seen from the Metro Station.

I have a desire to travel, and to see new and exciting places. But I also have a fascination with being a citizen of this limboland of a District, and the "impartiality" it holds by being governed by the federal government. (Although citizens are pushing for statehood in conjunction with the national election!) Everything here is so... "official". Back in Model UN in middle and high school I crafted a love to look to higher powers, rules, and regulations as a standard and guide for the "right" thing to do. Being in DC puts me in the center of the highest law in the land, and everything here, from the architecture, to the very people walking on the streets, reflects the fact that the buck stops here. (At least on a nation-state level. Internationally, that's a different story.)

Protests and tourists on Pennsylvania Avenue.

Yet my admiration for the "official" has shown me that it is systematically flawed, and needs to change. Thankfully we live in a country where, even though it may be extremely difficult, change can happen, and does happen. My experience in AmeriCorps showed me that all that is "official" is not "right", and that we need to help change the system to ensure the betterment of government for all people. Maybe that's why I am here? Maybe I've subconsciously chosen to be at the heart of the highest level of government to push for the change I want to see?

The Capitol at Sunset

I've started to pay attention more to the Metro system, and to become invested in why it is failing the populace so much. Little did I know moving here, I would be privy to using one of the worst maintained major public transportation systems in the United States. And I didn't bring a car, so it's definitely in my interest to make sure the rails are running well and are safe. It's amazing how broken Metro is right now, and how the "Nation's subway" has become old, dirty, and corroded. There are literal fires all across the system, routine red light violations, and more derailments and near miss collisions than I would feel comfortable talking about less I scare more people from using the system.

The designers must have engineered the system to look brighter in pictures than in real life. This is Friendship Heights station, one of the best maintained stations I've ever seen in the system (probably because it serves boutique, high-end luxury shops and hotels straddling the border between Maryland and DC.)

But I am becoming more and more committed. Thankfully, I've started making friends through the local DC Unitarian Universalist church (All Souls), and many of them are committed to making DC, the country, and the world a better place. I've also started finding community in them and the UU church, and that makes me much more content among this time of establishment, especially moving into the cold dark winter months.

So where do I go from here? I'm moving into a new(ish) chapter, starting a new position, and committing myself to a new city. Yet, my inner hopes and dreams fight against settling. Who knows though? Even though I was in the Northwest for two years (two years? Still can't believe I was out there that long), I ended up moving on from there. I've only been in DC for five months, not even an entire year, so there is still much, much more ahead. But as I said, I do really like it here, and, even though I can't quite explain it, I have an intense drive to start working for this transient urban megalith. I've nestled into a place I really, really, enjoy, and I find myself drawn to fight for it, and to make it better.

Heart of the local Mount Pleasant neighborhood. Possibly a place I may look to move one day. I love the Hispanic influence and population which has focused and moved into the neighborhood. 

Vespers, Movies, & Settling

Wow how time flies.

Here I am, mid-September, getting ready for the culmination of the Great Places in America project I've been working on, and faced with the coming dilemma of deciding what to do with the rest of my life. I've put it off successfully for another couple of months into early November, but eventually I will have to face the fact that I will need a new position to keep this DC gig up.

(More on that later.)

I do really like Washington DC. It's a really great city with a great culture. I have been happier here than any other place I can think of recently. Outside of my college experience (where I was surrounded by a structured schedule and flow of life) being in this city reminds me of the time I studied abroad in Barcelona. As much as I don't want to admit it, I think large, dense urban areas are the places I want to be right now.

Waterfront Park by the Navy Yard.

I don't like relegating myself to such constraints. It makes me sound elitist, pretentious, and like I'm too good for anything smaller or more intimate. And I'm not! I love visiting and seeing small cities. I really enjoy traveling, and experiencing as many places as I can. I just don't find myself happy in mid-sized to small cities. I don't know if it is one base reason, or a combination of reasons. I don't want to blame it on the car-centric model of development, but I really think that is what it is. Or maybe it's the petty politics and small-town doggedness that persists where a diverse population should propel people forward in terms of addressing larger issues. Maybe it's the lack of things to do, or places to see.

My personal favorite version of Metro architecture. The arches style.

I'm not quite sure, but all I know is that I'm happier here in DC than I have been in a while, and that feels nice. My curiosity drives me to know exactly why I am happy, but I should just sit back and enjoy it for a bit. Maybe it is just the honeymoon phase, and I'll grow dissatisfied with this city. I don't know really.


As I ponder of why I like it here so much, there have been many many things and events I've gone to that have helped me transition to this place much easier than I ever did in Vancouver. I've gotten involved with the Young Adults group at the local Unitarian Church. Just tonight I went to see Interstellar at the Natural History Museum IMAX with friends from the church. It was pretty amazing. While the act of watching the movie was mostly a solo act, the camaraderie of having people there you know is so much better than going by yourself.

A panorama of the Udvar Hazy Annex of the Air & Space Museum out in Northern Virginia

Speaking of "church", I'd like to let people know that I'm talking about Unitarian Universalists (UU) here. I'm not going to start getting all godly on folks. I haven't written too much about my personal beliefs here, and that's mainly because I don't quite know what I believe myself, and I'm personally terrified of eternity and death. So we're not going down that rabbit hole today. Just to wrap up: being a UU is all about being in a congregation together and exploring your beliefs rather than adhering to a strict dogma. You can read more on it here.

Finally, I'll wrap up this post with my first experience of a vespers service. (Sticking with the religion theme above.) I have only heard of vespers before, and never attended one, and I am so glad I went to this service. An intro: Vespers is basically an evening service that is lead by chanting, singing, and silence. It's a much more spiritual and inward looking service rather than the outgoing and exciting Sunday services. Basically I loved it.

I think vespers services are the more spiritual and ritualistic side of the UU tradition that I have been seeking. I don't think my church in Vancouver did evening services, but if they did I was missing out. As I was chanting along and singing along during the vocal parts, I felt as though I became a part of something greater than myself, and that everyone around me was participating in something that brought us together to acknowledge something greater.

When we came to the first bout of silence, it pounded on my eardrums. No outside noise, no huge crowds, only peace in the warmly lit sanctuary. The leader preached that with every chant to let it sink in and affect you more and more. I'm not sure what it was about the togetherness, but for some reason the practice set off some sort of brain chemistry and really made me feel something that I haven't felt before.

Panorama of National Airport

The one that sticks in my head the most is this chant:

Bountiful am I
Blissful am I
Beautiful am I

And I just have to think that I'm feeling that in my life right now, and it really puts me at ease.

Botanical Bikes and Baseball

I've been in a strange lull between feeling like a productive prodigy some days, and a stereotypical listless modern millennial on the others. So in typical fashion, instead of taking initiative after a fairly good work day, I'm going to write a fairly traditional update of a blog post highlighting what I've been up to.

Over the past couple of weeks (actually month and a half really), I've been up to some really cool stuff. Washington DC has so much to offer, see, and enjoy, and I've been relishing in the wonderful (sometimes excessive) warmth that the once marshy capitol has to offer.

Recently I went to go see the corpse flower in bloom at the United States Botanical Gardens. It didn't stink quite as bad as it had the day before, but it was still quite a site to see.

As the largest unbranched inflorescence in the plant kingdom, this plant grew to it's max to be 7 feet 4 inches. It was quite a site to see. Also, the spadix (the center of the plant) maintains around the human body temperature (98.6°) during bloom to help it spread it's stench to attract pollinators.

Another interesting part of the whole process was the botanical gardens had their botanist artists in residence drawing and sketching the plant for their records and documentation.

Another highlight of the past month was my first real live baseball game. I attended two games where the Pittsburgh Pirates faced off against the Washington Nationals (Nats for short). The first game, which the Nats won, was delayed for 40 minutes due to rain. The afternoon downpour reminded me of the daily storms we get in Ohio after a long, hot day. Afterwards though, there was a beautiful sight over Nationals Park:

I loved both games. I didn't quite realize how fun it could be to be at a game in person, and to enjoy the cheering, drink and eat ballpark food, and hear the noises up close and personal as bats hit the ball, and runners cleared the bases.


Finally, I took one of my longest (and best) bike rides on the entirety of the Capital Crescent Trail the past weekend. I set out later in the day on a Saturday, and took the Metro up to Silver Spring, Maryland where the trail begins. The temporary trail runs through a small neighborhood and ends up on a crushed gravel path for the first 4 miles from Silver  Spring to Bethesda. At one point the trail crosses an old railroad trestle across Rock Creek and gives you a great view of the creek and valley below:

As you enter Bethesda the trail enters what is known as "The Tunnel" (even though there are a couple of tunnels along the length of the trail. On maps I saw this part of the trail cutting through the literal center and downtown of Bethesda and I always wondered to myself how it did that. Well literally the downtown is built on an elevated platform to make the Metro station and bus bays work, and underneath all of that infrastructure is the bike path.

Once through Bethesda, the trail follows an old railroad bed down in a crescent shape (hence the name) to the Georgetown Waterfront Park. About halfway down the trail meets the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, and it's towpath, which people still hike on. (The towpath, mostly intact and usable, actually serves as a major trail leading into and across the Appalachian Mountains for serious trekkers.)

The canal also serves as a historic park with different historical sites to visit along the way, including the Abner Cloud House. Many people launch kayaking trips from here, and also use it as a good fishing spot. The entire canal (and bike trail) serve as a wonderful natural retreat from the stuffy and stately DC.

A look down the towpath. You can see the Capital Crescent Trail to the right, and the C&O Canal to the left.

Finally, when riding into Georgetown you come across views of the Key Bridge (named after Francis Scott Key), the Potomac, and the Rosslyn skyline (an unincorporated area just across from the District in Northern Virginia).

Key Bridge with the Washington Monument in the Background

Rosslyn Skyline

After all is said and done, I am finding so much to do and see in this area. Looking back on it, I am so glad I live in the District rather than in one of the suburbs in other states. I didn't realize how much I liked the dense urban grid, with it's good public transportation resources. (I mean Metro catches on fire, but it's still more frequent and useful than smelly old buses I would take in Vancouver.) I know I should try to evaluate a place based on it's own characteristics and not how it compares to other places. But I can't help compare it to Portland (or Vancouver).

The denser city and planning involved with it just makes so much more sense and is hella' more accessible. I haven't experienced this level of freedom and enjoyment out of a place since I lived in Barcelona, and that was only for six weeks. Does it get a little cramped? Yes. Does it get a little annoying not having solitude sometimes? Yes. But it's worth the trade off to be active, healthy, and to satisfy my sense of discovery every day. While I don't like to relegate myself to absolutes, it looks like it's going to be city living for me for at least a couple of years.