Happy Mother’s Day, Mom!

Just over a year ago we were in Italy together. Maybe next spring you can come visit me, too?

Positano on the Amalfi Coast

Yes, I do plan to go to Tunisia

The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves as well. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen accidents, meetings and material assistance that no one could have dreamed would come their way. Whatever you can do or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now.
—Goethe

Yesterday I wasn’t ready to tell you how Colin’s Boren Fellowship will affect me. I wasn’t as committed to my decision when I’d written that post. I had a bit more to work out than Colin did when he decided to take it.

Like, What is it I’ve been working toward these past nine months? Now I’ll be back at square one. And, What would I even do over there? And worst of all, Won’t this turn out like all the bad of Italy without as much of the good?

But those are quite little questions compared to, Do I want to be bold? And more honestly, What would the pain of nine months apart be worth?

I think so, and more than what I’ve got here right now.

Those little questions even got easier to answer after I committed. I need a visa to be there: a student visa would be the easiest to get, so I would have to enroll in French classes. Plus there would sure be plenty to write about. If only because of those things, life in Tunisia would be a lot more like my experience in Taiwan than that in Italy (maybe not as easy, but likely more fulfilling).

When I get back, there will surely still be jobs available. Perhaps not these jobs that I have on my list right now, but others. And my references will likely still remember me, if only because I’ll be the one who went off to Tunisia. We have the rest of our lives to work and set down roots; a bit more time being bold can’t set us back too far.

Big news

Colin got some exciting news recently. He received the Boren Fellowship, an all-expenses-paid opportunity to study Arabic in Tunisia for nine months. The fellowship comes with the stipulation that he work for a short period for the federal government, but that’s something he was interested in doing anyway.

Yes, you’ve heard about Tunisia in the news. A Tunisian man sparked the Arab Spring in early 2011, and there has been a bit of a revolution in Tunisia and across the region since. In October, Tunisia held peaceful, democratic elections, and a moderate Islamic party was voted in. They have since expanded rights for women and recently said unequivocally that they will not add Sharia law to their constitution.

Another classmate just returned from doing his Boren: his proposal involved studying in Syria, but during the time he was to be there, the country was too hot (in a revolution sense — it’s always hot in a temperature sense), and the Boren people had our friend instead do his program in Egypt. Colin won’t be going anywhere that’s deemed unsafe (or at least, no more unsafe than some parts of DC).

All that said, he didn’t love Tunis, the capital city and where he would be studying, when he went there on a SAIS trip in January. He’s planning to petition to either shorten the length of his time or to do part of it in Morocco. As it stands, he would leave mid-September to begin his program in October.

We’ve only had a few days to wrap our heads around this – he’d forgotten he’d even applied for a Boren. It’s really too good a deal for him to pass up, as well as being extremely prestigious; only 100 fellowships are awarded each year. So he’s almost certainly going, whether or not he’s able to change his program.

SAIS Prom

A magical rainy evening…

Thanks to all of our friends carrying cameras!

Seeing the forest through the streets

Every so often I find myself on a new bus line, going through a new neighborhood. There are so many of them, and they are so distinct, and since I’ve seen only a sliver of the map of DC, it’s preposterous to think that I know much about this city.

So I try to keep learning.

Working in an organization that operates only in DC and everywhere in DC has been enormously helpful in that pursuit. I’m also learning a lot about trees, but I think I may have mentioned that.

For example, these are the flowers of a yellowwood tree.

Anyway, I don’t believe Colin had left the northwest quadrant of DC more than a handful of times — fewer if you don’t count trips to the airport. So when we made plans to go to the National Arboretum, in the eastern corner of the Northeast, I suggested we bike. Four of the five miles I cycled every day, twice a day, to get to my Brookland-based internship. It’s only a tad harrowing.

The last mile of the ride was really unpleasant. That it is hilly is forgivable, but in the space of a couple blocks, the single-family homes with yards and friendly inhabitants gave way to concrete square buildings, empty businesses, hollering mothers, traffic, and a sorry absence of trees. An absence, even, of tree boxes, where a street tree could potentially grow and improve the neighborhood.

Inside the Knot, looking out at the Capitol columns.

Colin was not happy. I mean, I wasn’t either, but it had been my plan, my assumption that pleasant Brookland would be adjacent to another equally nice neighborhood and that our trip to the Arboretum would be an enlightening tour of NE DC. It was, but not in the way I would have hoped.

The Arboretum was quite nice, but soured a bit by the notion of getting back home (we went the way we’d come). I’d like to go back, but we’ll have to find another way.

Show off

This is all a rather touchy subject in this town. For the most part, gentrification has been something of which I was only peripherally aware. I’m just a guest still — a renter, a non-resident on my tax forms, even.

But that is likely not going to be the case for much of the rest of my professional life. Colin’s degree likely dictates that he will be finding work in this town. Maybe not right away, but certainly that’s the plan.

At that point, it will be I think important to understand how our actions affect the larger trend of gentrification in the District. Not that we necessarily can do much about it, but understanding is good.

A decision looms

Around the time I was graduating high school, my dad kept telling me he thought I’d end up in Washington, D.C. I think he expected me to be running the world, or some small corner of it, and I never failed to scoff at the idea.

I gave up the idea of politics in fourth grade.

But I am here, and as life here gets the tiniest bit more predictable for me, it gets only more undecided for Colin. I have the faintest wisps of leads for jobs in the area, and I am absolutely smitten with spring here.

That is a purple tree. It's called a redbud. Now they've lost most of their purple buds and have spouted heart-shaped leaves.

Word on the street is that the bugs are going to be worse than ever this year, though, because the winter wasn’t fierce enough to kill them off.

Basically, the question we face is whether to continue on with this pseudo-student lifestyle of so few responsibilities or to put down some roots and go willingly into real life. The question hasn’t gotten much easier in the six months or so that we’ve had to consider it. We’re learning new things though, about each other, our options, ourselves. And as tired as I may get of being an intern, there are the very real benefits like being able to take off on Friday just to visit a museum or to go in late today so we could see the space shuttle circle the city from the White House.

A bit crooked, apologies. I was excited.

Spring Break, Part 2: Hone Quarry Campground

Hone Quarry Lake

It was everything I wanted it to be and more. There was a fire ring with a grill; there was a tent pad; there was a picnic table; there were toilets and bear-safe trash receptacles. There were towering oak trees; there was a river. There was no one else there, especially no RVs. And it cost a mere $5 a day.

Honestly, what more could a car camper want?

Pancake breakfast, that's what.

We could have done without the rain, but there wasn’t much of that and it, you know, served to break up the perfectness of the trip.

Colin spent about 75 percent of waking campsite hours building or tending a fire, which he loved (and after a couple washes, my hair still smells faintly of smoke). The rest of us occupied ourselves with preparing food (we had so much food—it was marvelous) or reading (finally, Game of Thrones). Our camping mates turned out to be, I think, the two most optimistic people one could find, which was huge when were drove through an intense but brief rain and thunderstorm to get out to western Virginia and the George Washington National Forest.

Breaking for lunch after a treacherous slide down into the valley.

We didn’t just hang out at the campsite. There was a hill to climb up and a river to hike along. There was a fishing lake, too, in the quarry, where our German camper got a taste of rural Virginia flavor.

If only there’d been showers, I could have stayed another three days.

The harrowing conclusion of our journey: Will Simone, Colin and Bryan make it across the river?

Spring Break, Part 1: Seeing Green

The events I could compare St. Patrick’s Day in New York to would have very little meaning for most of my readers: Halloween in Isla Vista, Floatopia, any night on State Street if you were near certain bars. A high-pitched, not entirely young, mass of intoxicated individuals, stumbling worse as the day went on—all in green, of course.

Beer goggles—or a jostled camera

Our guide Andrew said he never remembered it being as bad as this when he was younger, a statement echoed by his mom, who marched in the parade. Of course, we had the very perfect day for a parade—sunny, warm, and a Saturday.

Since we didn’t get the memo that we were supposed to arrive in Manhattan already drunk, we quickly made for a pub. Guinness all around and then a bagpipe band showed up, marching through the squeeze of bodies in the narrow bar.

Properly hydrated, we set out for more people watching, lunch at a deli, a quiet moment in St. Patrick’s Cathedral, then a quick coffee, where Jake joined us! The little brother, he is alive and well and loving New York. California, I think you’ve lost him forever.

We rounded out the afternoon with a visit to the Irish Potato Famine Memorial, a charming slope of green near Battery Park, and a stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge. My travelmates had all just finished several hard weeks of school, remember, so we called it an early night and returned to Andrew’s house for take-out pizza and “Waking Ned Devine.”

Day two was pretty typical New York site-seeing: Washington Square Park, SoHo, the Highline Park, Chelsea, then dinner with Andrew’s folks at a nice Italian place.

Oh! One more Santa Barbara reminder: While we were watching this piano player in Washington Square Park, there was an explosion about 100 feet away. Everyone turned to see a cloud of smoke turn into a perfect smoke ring. Assuming it was another street performance, we ambled over after the pianist was finished to find a crowd of people looking nervously at a manhole and warning others to stay away. Why does this make me think of Santa Barbara? The smoke was faintly yellow and blue.

Long weekend: NYC

It’s part one of spring break, which I may or may not be entitled to call it as I am neither a student nor a teacher, and we’re heading to New York!

Yonkers, specifically. Andrew was kind enough to open his parents’ home to us and a few others for the weekend, and we’re going up to see how the Irish Catholics of Yonkers celebrate St. Patrick’s Day.

I'm practicing.

Actually, I got that so I could make these Guinness Brownies to take as a hostess gift. I haven’t tried them yet, but they look dark and sinful and fudgey, which makes sense, given those ingredients.

3.14

I’m waiting for it to cool, but it was too pretty not to brag.

(And once I cut into it, I might find that it’s not worth bragging about.)

Something unfortunate that I learned today: Colin feels only so-so about lemon meringue pie. Thankfully I have a back-up plan for getting rid of three-quarters of a pie.

Happy Pi Day, everyone!