The pep talk I gave myself last night seemed to have worked. I went down to breakfast and got talking to an Aussie guy named Mark, who’s just driven about 4,300km from Vancouver to Toronto. He didn’t go to uni until 24, instead choosing to travel for a while, and said he’d highly recommend me hitchhiking down to the West Coast. I considered it for a while but there’s no real need for me to risk doing so. I’ve now found lifts to a lot of the cities I’ll be travelling to in the next nine or so weeks. There’s always next time though!
Naturally, I went back to the dorm a lot more confident and thought “the guy in the bunk below me can’t be that bad”. He really wasn’t. Con (that was his name) was another Aussie, who lives in Melbourne and spent the last three weeks working at a summer camp in New Jersey. According to him, the best time to get work in Australia is over the summer i.e. from December to February and bar-work is best found in Melbourne and Brisbane – the bars all close at 12 in Sydney. He said to get in touch if I’m ever in Oz, something I will definitely do.
After signing up for a free walking tour of Georgetown, I worked on a blog post, before deciding to venture out and find some lunch. After walking down K-Street, the home of dozens of lobbying firms and therefore, arguably, the most significant street in the world, I passed rows of food trucks on Farragut Square. Street food tends to be cheap, right? Not in DC. In a city built largely for working professionals, prices are vastly inflated beyond what they would ordinarily be. At a farmer’s market I walked past, for instance, green juice was being sold at $11 a bottle. That’s fine if you’re on a six-figure salary and leave the city at the end of the working week. It’s not so good if you’re on minimum wage and stuck there full time. It’s easy to see that, for the majority, survival in a city where 8.6% of the population are said to be millionaires, would be tough. Basic economics says as much.
Walking past the frat houses of George Washington University which, for the record, were surprisingly small, I came across a Segway tour. Now, some cities just don’t seem suited to them but DC definitely is. Riding down the National Mall from the Capitol to the Washington Monument would be incredible on a hot day, or any day for that matter. As it’s such a compact city and the buildings retain heat well, it often feels much hotter than it actually is. It can be 26*C but feel like 30*C, which is more UAE than USA.
At the end of Constitution Avenue is the Lincoln Memorial, the only building I’ve ever seen from a distance and unwittingly said “WOW”. It’s seriously impressive. Photos don’t do its size any justice and its design is quite simply timeless. It’s very hard to imagine that it was built hundreds of years ago. Surprisingly, there are no security checks when you enter and I do feel it’s lost its touch a tiny bit. It’s a self-declared temple to Lincoln and, for that reason, “Quiet, respect please” signs are dotted around, all of which are ignored by noisy tourists taking photos, of which I was, admittedly, one. In decades gone by, when the majority of people still had an emotional connection to slavery and to segregation, would this have been the case? Who knows? Either way, it got me thinking: has time detached us from the implications of Lincoln’s work? As I sat on the steps outside, watching Russian kids slide down the polished marble as if it were a slide, it certainly felt so. Regardless, I was still struck by just how powerful and thought-inducing that monument is. I guess everyone takes to it differently but for me, it raised the question of “What will my legacy be?”. Lincoln was a champion of human liberty; what will I champion? What will I do with my life? I just sat there transfixed for about half an hour. I don’t know what I was thinking about; I just knew that getting up and leaving didn’t feel right. It’s the sort of place that movie characters go to in those scenes where they’re having their breakdown or re-evaluating their lives.
I spent a very brief couple of minutes at the Washington Monument, so short in fact that I won’t pass judgement on it, and then rushed back to the hostel for the tour of Georgetown I’d signed up for. 40 minutes of brisk walking and a lot of sweat later I got through the door, just in time, and guess what? It was cancelled! How peak is that! I did have quite an experience in the time that I would have been on it though. A guy, baked out of his mind and, for some reason, wearing those antique welding goggles, walked in with his girlfriend. I got the impression they’d just been evicted so I spent about 10 minutes explaining how hostels work to them. I say to them: it was more to her; he was barely functioning.
Later on, I found some free macaroni in the kitchen. With a bit of sauce from a grocery store down the road, it made for a pretty cheap meal. One thing I noticed was that even though the big grocery stores have economies of scale, the smaller ones seem to charge lower prices. I guess Americans are just willing to accept higher prices if they can buy everything from one store, rather than shopping around? Maybe it’s wise to buy from Trader Joe’s and Walgreens though. Either the pasta was out of date or the sauce but, either way, I felt pretty grim after eating it. Or, maybe someone hadn’t bothered to wash the cutlery before me. It wouldn’t surprise me.
Anyway, I sat down and ate with a few people. They all had headphones in or were on their phones so no-one spoke but that was fine. As I said yesterday, I’ve realised that hostelling can be as social or unsocial as you want it to be. You can treat it like a hotel or like a commune and that’s something I was really learning to appreciate.