Mentally vivacious

A recent culture experience has me feeling mentally vivacious (also mentally loquacious, if that is possible) and not at all erudite.

I went to a performance of the Tom Stoppard play Arcadia at the Folger Shakespeare Theatre yesterday. After a day of concentrating closely on my computer screen, a total blow-out of my bicycle tire on my commute home, and a rather mundane supper of leftover ham in a stale tortilla (not even as tasty as it might sound, I am afraid), the play was a whoosh of energy and wit. Just exactly what my brain needed.

The play swivels between a garden setting in the early 1800s and modern times. The modern setting is trying to uncover piece by piece what happened centuries ago. As the audience, we are privy to the truth of the earlier situation involving Lord Byron, a crazy family, a tutor, and his precocious tutee, Thomasina. We also get to listen in on the conversations of modern truth-seekers unearthing clues from old books and a gaming log. The dialog of the three-hour piece zips along and moves from philosophy to Latin to mathematics to poetry ... Ashamedly, I am sure that I missed many references, but, nonetheless, I was captivated and enthralled. More than anything, it made me think about education and the kinds of thinking that we dedicate ourselves to in today's real world. It seems to me that there is a value to exploring both classical education and dreamy romanticism.

No pithy synthesis, I am afraid. I just wanted to share my enchantment.

New Hiking Exploits

There seems to be a theme this summer... Here are pictures of a hike to Raven's Rock (near Leesburg, VA). Despite pouring rain that had just finished and nearly three hours of traffic to get to the trailhead, we ventured up and out and started our weekend in the most peaceful, natural way. Enjoy!

Sunday Stroll in Shaw

This last Sunday I spent the day exploring a lesser-known neighborhood of the city. Twice a year, the city hosts a series of walking tours highlighting famous people, geographic locations, architecture, and history (see Cultural Tourism DC for more). I decided it would be interesting to venture out from my northern Virginia home and unearth some stories about a part of the city that I don't know very well. Actually, I have to say that I didn't know it all -- with the exception of my favorite Ethiopian restaurant, Lalibela, that is located in the vicinity. Now, thanks to an expert tour guide, I am a bit more familiar.

Shaw is a neighborhood downtown that is located north of the capital. It spans from K Street to Florida/U Street along 9th and 7th near Howard University and the Convention Center.


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The neighborhood is historically black and is full of the ghosts of famous folks such as Duke Ellington, Carter Wooson (father of black history), Langston Hughes, Phillips Randolph, and more. In fact it was named after the Civil War commander of a black infantry. The area witnessed the 1968 riots in DC and has been largely run-down until the last years in which folks have started projects and building campaigns to revive this area of the city.

Highlights, for me, included

• seeing the architecture of homes built around the turn of the century
• discovering the term "pocket park" for small parks built on empty lots between buildings
• the Phyllis Wheatley YWCA (now used as residences for women)
• the Howard Theatre where all the important folks used to play (Duke Ellington and later more modern groups such as The Supremes) -- one woman on our walking tour could actually remember her visit to the theatre, which sadly is now abandoned and in serious disrepair
• visiting what is now a bar and used to be the Scurlock Studio of photography. Notably, I realized I had already visited Nellie's Sportsbar before and that I had seen a photo exhibit at the National Museum of American History with pictures of the neighborhood and prominent figures all taken by the Scurlock Studio.

All in all, I learned a lot this Sunday out and about. If only all of my wanderings were as educational!

In line with my summer resolutions, I finish this post with a bit of poetry, most appropriately from Langston Hughes.

Dream Variations

To fling my arms wide
In the face of the sun,
Dance!  Whirl!  Whirl!
Till the quick day is done.

Summer resolution

Who said that resolutions are only for the new year? To keep myself accountable and get your input, I decided to share.

After some reflection, I decided that I don't have enough poetry in my life. I've decided to read a poem a day this summer for personal enlightenment and the pure enjoyment of the written word. Why not start or finish the day with something lyrical?

This morning I read an e. e. cummings poem "since feeling is first" and rather liked it.

...for life's not a paragraph and death i think is no parenthesis...

I've also resolved to watch more foreign and independent films. I checked out "Hawaii, Oslo" from the library and watched this Norwegian film a couple of days ago and rather liked it as well.

As I attempt a more "cultured" perspective, do you have any favorites or suggestions?

Fresh Air

Nothing like a quiet, rainy afternoon to catch up on some blogging and sharing. After the chaos of finishing my semester and wedding planning, I have had a hard time lately with the task of settling my heart into the task of reflection. Yesterday primed me for the task as I headed out for a hike in the Shenandoahs and spent the day communing with Mother Nature.



On a whim, I decided to venture out with a local Meetup group for hikers and participate in an organized hike in the Shenandoah National Park. We were in the Skyline Drive area and hiked a loop called Whiteoak/Cedar Run. The trail ran together with running water almost the entire time and was filled with beautiful spots to enjoy rushing waterfalls and bubbling brooks. On the way down, there was a natural water slide on which hikers braver than I could slide into a natural water hole (of sub-freezing temperatures). It was a gorgeous, sunny day and the group I met up with was filled with a bunch of interesting vagabonds who like nature.



The day took me back to times when I more frequently hiked in other areas, bringing sweet memories and smiles to my heart... I remember sunrise hikes with Greta at Outlaw Ranch in the Black Hills during which we cajoled campers into joining us for an early morning hike to the Rock. In fact, I also remember our quest to watch the sun's first light to hit from the top of Harney Peak and finally being gifted with that view after several attempts. ... I remember hiking in Slovakia while I was there -- the Staraturanska Pätdesiat with Katka's family, Javorina with Jarmila and company, school trips to see Orava and other beauties. Those times were some of my best as a PCV. ... I remember my afterwork and weeknd hikes in Missoula when I did a summer program at UM and the solitude of the forest and the breath-taking peaks. ... Unforgettable are hikes taken in Romania, particularly a hike my students took me on near Brasov called the seven ladders. I've never been so frightened in my life as when scaling those ladders clinging to cliffside. I also remember hiking with friends in the Brasov area and being stuck far outside of town without a ride back in... and the gracious arrangement of a ride by a local to get us back to our starting place. ... Slow walks along the Big Sur coastline in Monterey are beautiful memories of sea meeting rocky coast. Conversations with good friends and quiet evening strolls must have been part of how I survived graduate school. ...



Hiking is a beautiful thing for so many reasons. It gets me out in the air to breath the same air as the trees. It teaches me that I too am a part of nature. It slows me down. It puts me in touch with others in a very human, non-digital, and meaningful way. It lets me be who I am and loves me just the same.



Hiking. I need more!

Front door visions

When I leave to go to work and return in the evening, this is what I see at the front door of my apartment complex.



How could this earth that flowers and renews at any odds be anything but a gorgeous, precious creation?

HAPPY EARTH DAY!

Parental visit

Isn't it cool when you realize that your parents are basically awesome people? I am aware that I have a bit of a biased perspective (and, after all, I am admitting to this publicly on my blog so perhaps I am just writing for my audience -- hi, mom and dad!). However, I mean it genuinely. Flying all the way out to Washington from Gillette is no small journey, and I think it is safe to say that there are few commonalities betwixt the two (save that they are in the same country). I mention the distance and differences because I think that part of what makes my parents so cool is seeing them in a new light and an alternative context. Not that they aren't well-traveled and interesting people when I normally see them in Wyoming, but we got to meet each other outside of busy routines, obligations, and habits that bind us in my home nest habitat. We were co-explorers here in the Capitol with plenty of time for ruminating, telling stories, plotting an up-coming wedding, reminiscing, celebrating Easter, and exploration!

Here are some of our greater shared experiences over Easter weekend with Mom and Dad (yee-haw):

I was finally (!) able to use visitors as an excuse to cruise through town on the sight-seeing double decker bus.



My mom got to revisit and retell her past life as a professional working on Capitol Hill.



Spring was in full bloom and the tulips provided a colorful backdrop to our sometimes chilly/rainy outings.



The Uhler family made personal connections to the area when we went for breakfast on Uhler Avenue in Alexandria!



The famed cherry blossoms were largely past their prime, save for these trees located near the parking I artfully obtained near the Lincoln Memorial.



We were co-hosts to an Easter celebration (menu: ham, scalloped potatoes, asparagus, peach cake, salad... yummy!)



All in all, the visit was anything but a loser (love you, Dad!).

Wales and other tales

I was in Wales for a teaching conference recently and had the most fantastic experiences (beyond the obvious professional development): frolicking in tulips, letting my hair blow in the cool coastal breeze while traveling via water taxi, cheering for Deutschland (even though my heart was with the Welsh underdog but we were sitting crammed amongst German fans and I just didn't think a cheer for the opposition would be appreciated) at a soccer match, deciphering morning television programming for children in Welsh, eating plenty of delicious and very sharp cheddar cheese, reconnecting with my wayfarer former self, gobbling up greasy fish and chips with a pint, and sitting down at a pub to listen to live music and ponder the meaning of life as a language teacher with a superb travel partner and friend.

Eang yw'r byd i bawb

Spring Miracles

• I saw daffodils on my bike ride to work this morning. Multiple times. They made me smile.
  
• I rode my bike to work this morning.
• Yesterday, I rode to Goethe Institute for my German class in shirtsleeves.
• I didn't need to wear socks yesterday with my shoes.
• The flowering crabs are blooming pink.
• Forsythia is blooming yellow along the way.
• The weatherman on the radio yesterday actually said something to the effect of "after four days of overcast weather, Washingtonians will finally see the sun." Four days! Ha!
• Daylight savings time means that it is light late into the evening.
• Feels like spring -- and we have two more days before it officially starts!
  

Homecoming

Being a nomad is a strange thing. Upon remarking that being back in Tartu during my spring break is a bit like coming home, a friend asked how long I was here (two years). After listening, he remarked that you have to live someplace three years to feel like it is home and at least four years to start making friends. Hmph, I thought. Perhaps that is a rather Estonian perspective. I have not lived anywhere for longer than two years since I was in college, and, amazingly enough, I still have friends. Does such a vagabond lifestyle lead me to have a blase attitude about the development of friendship? Are such ties built during a time abroad so shallow?

There is probably some truth to it. Long-term friendships do not always survive without a physical presence test. True friends are ones that you can pick up with even if you haven't exchanged hundreds of emails or followed Facebook status changes for years, but you do lose something of the everyday developments. I have had great luck lately with finding old friends -- those from my Peace Corps days who have surfaced in Washington, DC, a friend from my New York stint back in 1998-1999, a wonderful Outlaw Ranch friend and college classmate who is going to perform our wedding ceremony, even a high school connection long elapsed but renewed since moving back to the United States. I am not convinced that it really takes four years.



After all, I have been treated to such warm welcomes and wonderful treatment here in Tartu since coming on Saturday. Last night, I met nearly thirty former students in a local coffeehouse (yes, that does make me feel like a good teacher... just the boost I need before heading back to the trenches at home after the break).



It is senseless to deny that coming back to a place where you lived and worked for a couple of years is a bit like coming home. I know the streets and the faces milling around them, but I also have the eerie sense that it isn't my environment any more. Having the experience of revisiting my lovely Peace Corps site in Slovakia, my Mexican home in Guadalajara, my neighborhood in New York City, the town where I went to college in South Dakota, my digs in Romania, and my former home here in Estonia, I can say that it is wonderful to arrive in a place you know, especially places you have recently left. Over time, the ties become harder to maintain, but the personal and emotional memories linger on and on in the fabric of the buildings, streets, and even the weather.



In Tartu, and all of the places where I have planted myself for some time, I do feel a bit like a long-lost stranger coming home. And it feels good to be part of a place again, even as a guest, for just a little while. It's like recovering pieces of myself that I have left behind, holding them up to the light, remembering them, and putting them back in my pocket to take out again later. It's completely lovely!