A Dickinsonian Weekend

Where were we? Thursday, I believe. Well, shortly after the panel discussion, I returned to my internship to finish out a relatively normal day there, then all turned crazy. Why? Dickinson College, in a little town called Carlisle, PA…. Crazy in the best of ways, of course.

While my roommates here in DC have been bussing it back home pretty much whenever possible, my first weekend out of town was instead to visit my friends at school (presence requested for the all-college formal), just 2.5 hours north of the city. I took the Metro out to Shady Grove after whirl-wind packing, where a car-owning friend was nice enough to retrieve me… and so began the hugging.

Full disclosure: as many know, I have an issue with personal space. A big one…. as in, even more than your typical American (does that make me more British? From my understanding, they’re known for being averse to hugging, correct? haha). It actually goes so far that one friend likes to quote The Emperor’s New Groove and tease me with “There’s a wall there”… and not just in terms of literal personal space. Regardless, Thursday through late Sunday saw me the receiver of so many hugs it was nearing ridiculous, especially considering the fact that some people bestowed more than one. Don’t get me wrong, I missed them, but... arm’s length, please, as a general rule – and I have long arms.

Pause at Buffalo Wild Wings en route to campus. Left: Scott, car-owning Dickinsonian, ROTC, too proud to admit defeat by Blazin’ wings. Right: Phil, friend of Scott, not too proud to cry due to said wings…. literally. Photo taken by Danielle, entertained girlfriend of Scott.

The agenda? Very, very little. My only pre-determined plans for the trip included conversation over coffee with a prof. on Friday morning and instructions to call a friend when I got back on campus. The latter I failed to do immediately enough for his liking, apparently, as I learned later that he’d asked another friend about me, who’d asked my former roommate about me. I love being missed. This, of course, resulted in my calling at 2:30 in the morning, knowing that we were both up anyways, and, honestly, teasing on his part when he heard my only plans for the next day.

“Kate, you’re only here for the weekend, you’re not supposed to be meeting to chat with professors. You should be chatting with students!” To all who agree- very silly, you are. Interesting people are interesting people; good conversation is good conversation (even better, enlightening and entertaining). The important part is that all of the above apply, correct? Sure. And - in my own opinion, at least - it did. Matter settled, excellent beginning to the weekend.

After stopping in on two more professors (though both much more business-oriented, no-nonsense sorts of meetings, truth be told), the rest of the weekend was pretty much devoted to the “chatting with students” aspect. Continue to criticize, if you will, but much of that was actually spent in the school library, my previous (and future) place of employment and hang out, as it remains a place of employment for several friends… don’t judge, we’re surprisingly entertaining people. Bring in food, music, and conversation, and the circulation desk is a happening place.

…And in case you were judging anyways, plenty of time was spent outside of the library as well, of course. An extended battle of pool, movie watching, dance-going, poker playing, etc. Your typical weekend of very little productivity and even less sleep, quite honestly. Too many people to see, too much to catch up on - productivity was pretty much put on hold until the return trip via Greyhound.

Corinne, Morgan, and I – a roommate reunion – in our Formal garb…. Post-Formal, admittedly, as I was neither organized nor inclined enough to attend as early as they did. Instead, I arrived fashionably late after watching House and discussing the state of democracy in West Africa…. bahaha.

Kofi Agyare, perpetrator of the aforementioned lateness, fittingly displaying his Ghanaian pride. Hands down one of my closest friends on campus, and crucial link for my summer plans: internship in Ghana, during which two months I’ll be staying with his family.

Thus the weekend flew by much too quickly, and I’ve already been interrogated as to when I’ll be back on campus (relatively soon, hopefully… if not for the people, than for the scones and apple fritters). A three hour bus ride back to DC landed me around Union Station shortly after midnight, at which point a lovely car-owning TWC student retrieved me (metro stops at midnight on Sundays- be aware.), and after a bit of confusion we made our way back to Arlington without map or GPS. Needless to say, we were quite proud of ourselves.

(Former) Girl Scout’s promise, I will actually refer to my internship in some relevant capacity in my next post! Attention is rather divided, so you have to bear with me if you were hoping to hear about the latest in real estate in the greater DC area. So next time: TWC programming and event, interview (rescheduled following a slight bout of food poisoning), Association for India’s Development (woot!), and whatever other misadventures I come across. I get myself into those anywhere (yes, this is a good thing), but DC seems to welcome them whole-heartedly at times.

With that- goodbye for now, chale.*

*Multi-cultural lesson for the day: chale- roughly defined, a familiar term of endearment used between friends and such in Ghana… compliments of Kofi Agyare.

A World of Color… Holi Hai!!

Just for your reference, when you pass out in the Metro en route to work, it’s time for a break. Thankfully, this is not something I know from personal experience; rather, it is something I, unfortunately, witnessed one morning when I heard a sharp intake of breath, a dull ‘thunk,’ and realized that there was one less head in my line of sight in the Metro car.

It was one of those impressive moments in which strangers necessarily ban together to face something greater than their own differences or discomfort. Is there a doctor nearby (no), do we pull an alert to stop the train (no, we’re almost to the next stop), help him up, give him a seat (several of which were immediately vacated), how far is he going (Metro Center), has this happened before (no), has he eaten anything today (no), does he feel dizzy (resounding yes), will he go to the hospital (no)? The previously silent train car had erupted in a bustle of concerned outpourings and questions, but the young man was determined to walk it off. Sometimes you’ve just got to recognize that health and mental sanity require taking a breather.

As I was reminded last Saturday, some people already have that down pat. Experience of the week: holi, the Hindu festival of colors! I can’t say it enough- the rest of the world has been seriously missing out on an awesome celebration. While there are various legends between the festival (the one I’ve heard most being in honor of Krishna), what it comes down to is a massive and carefree celebration of life, color, and friendship… and all that good stuff. Color is everywhere- in the air, on the ground, covering your clothes and face, in your hair and ears. You name it, it’s there. What’s more, everything is fair game; step on to the streets of Kolkata on the day of holi, and you will quickly find yourself accosted by strangers with water balloons, hoses, handfuls of powder, and pretty much anything else they can get their hands on.



The video is set to the song “Mujhe Rang De” from Thakshak. The film composer for this one, A.R. Rahman, is deservingly well-known (known best to Westerns for Slumdog Millionaire, but impressive throughout Bollywood).

Proof of my partaking, though still somewhat low-key as it is halfway through my first holi experience. Shout out to Sonika and her camera phone, with a bit of screwing around to turn blur into vintage. :)

How did I find myself with green hair, a bespeckled black pea coat, and red splattered jeans and shoes? That, wonderfully enough, is compliments of the Association for India’s Development and its members, who were more than happy to reel me in for my first holi celebration. As I’ve mentioned previously, I am gradually becoming involved as an AID volunteer, inspired as a civic engagement project for TWC but continued out of sheer enjoyment and interest. Honestly, what little time I’ve spent with the AID and the experiences resulting from that have been some of my favorites thus far.

Dushyant and Sonika Sethi, AID members and fellow Arlington-residers kind enough to offer me rides to AID meetings, entertain, educate, and feed me on Saturdays, and all around awesome people. Quality conversation and multi-cultural stories and experiences - doesn’t get much better than that.

This Saturday featured a stop at Patel Brothers for “colors” (the powder used for holi celebrations… and me unaware that I’d get to see them up close and personal), the meeting at Dr. Bhagat's house in College Park, followed by “playing holi” in the yard, then joining the Sethi’s for a trip to Starbucks to meet with a potential doula and dinner at a Malaysian restaurant in DC. Yes, in that order- meaning we were still slightly color-spattered for both the meeting in Starbucks and going out to dinner. As it turns out, Washingtonians aren’t accustomed to seeing people decked out in their post-holi garb, and it results in some staring and vaguely repressed smiles. In any case, we were thoroughly enjoying ourselves, from discussion of upcoming events and progress reports at the meeting to conversation over a late dinner of roti, curry, shrimp, etc.

To continue the food extravaganza, I joined Medha, a fellow Media & Comm. intern, later on in the week to take advantage of a prime deal at Zorba’s Café, a Greek restaurant near Dupont Circle. Thanks to a website called Groupon, we pulled in $40 worth of food for just $20 of our already limited funds… and I’d say we did fairly well making our way through $40 worth of tabouli salad, pita and hummus, falafel, souvlaki, and baklava. After all, one must pay due attention to various cultures, correct? Sure thing.

Medha, predisposed to documentation via photograph (especially when she realized how little I enjoy having my picture taken--thus the fruity expression), was quick to make note of our loaded table.

The next morning featured a temporary shirking of WBJ duties, cause being a panel discussion hosted by the Voice of America, “Rebuilding Haiti’s Media: The Lifeline of Development.” The program was announced through our program adviser, and I was quick to take them up on the invite. Not only was I interested for sheer interest’s sake (and not surprisingly so, as one hoping to go into journalism via international affairs and politics), but the panel discussion meshes amazingly well with my current independent study project, a required factor for my school credits while at TWC. …An excellent event, and well worth the time missed at WBJ.

The panel featured a last minute stand-in for the Ambassador of Haiti (as you can imagine, a busy fellow), the Creole Service Chief of VOA, and representatives from Internews, the US AID/Office of Transition Initiatives, and the CommGAP at the World Bank. The heads featured here are just bonus, so you feel like you’re there…. ahem.

More on that later, though, I’m sure… if you’re interested in hearing more about any of the above (planning your own holi celebration, perhaps?), let me know- I’m always up for good conversation. For now, though, it’s time to hold off on further verbosity. Next up: a weekend in Carlisle, PA. :)

A Taste (or two or three…) of DC

A purple cow. According to my last interviewee, I am a purple cow - complimentarily analogous for “better than the everyday, annoyingly unoriginal black and white cow.” Need I say that it was an interesting and in-depth conversation? A “purple cow” of profile interviews, if I may.

That interview was both a ‘high’ in my internship thus far and a reminder of why I’m not built for desk jobs. Last Thursday also boasted a bright point in my experience with WBJ to this point, as the reporters and editors gathered for a weekly meeting. To witness the challenges facing print journalism and the interaction between writers and editors – this is why I am here. Though the regular reporters seemed to dread what was coming as they wended their way to the conference room, it turned out to be one of the most enlightening experiences thus far.

Nevertheless, the fact remains that internship and work are only part of the experience. Thus, if you don’t mind, we’ll skip along to more diverse and… colorful… experiences. The weekend was nothing if not colorful. Let’s say we structure it as we structure days: around meals…

Saturday, eight hours of which I spent as virtually the only non-Indian in sight, featured a South Indian vegetarian restaurant, with appearances by iddly, samosas, and masala dosai. I can’t take credit for the menu, as it was wisely decided upon by the young Indian couple virtually hosting me for the day; I had no idea when I left the apartment at 1:30 that attending a meeting for the Association for India’s Development (AID), scheduled for 3, would keep me occupied until 9:30 that evening.

Photo: http://www.indianfoodforever.com/

The wonderfully massive South Indian version of a crêpe: dosai, flanked by lentil soup and chutney.

Knowing a “civic engagement” project was a TWC requirement and hoping to combine my interests, I managed to stumble across information for AID, contacted a local branch member, and ultimately found myself hitching a ride to the first Saturday meeting post-blizzard. After spending much of the afternoon discussing some of the organization’s causes and most recent projects, the Sethi’s and I hopped back in the car, by this point more than ready for dinner. The result? My first trip to an Indian grocery store, followed by the aforementioned dosai at Woodlands. Did I get a few goofy/intrigued look as a non-Indian hanging around such places and accompanied by a pair of natives? Sure, a few. Did I enjoy every second of the company and the experience? You bet.

Sunday continued the culture fun, this time including a somewhat random mixture of Chinatown, Burmese, and French crêpes. In celebration of the Lunar New Year, Chinatown hosted a massive parade and fireworks displays, and massive crowds to accompany the hoopla.

A fellow Media & Comm. intern and I met at the Chinatown Metro stop and, upon reaching the street, found ourselves facing walls upon walls of people, bustling amongst the oddly mixed but pervading smell of Chinese food and smoke wafting from the firecrackers.

As the streets began to clear of fireworks, we decided it was high time to fully enjoy the atmosphere by partaking in the most common sign of Chinese culture in the US: food! Of course, being that everyone in the region even remotely interested in Chinese culture was already packing both sidewalks and restaurants, we instead – semi-logically – wandered into the one Burmese restaurant in Chinatown.

En route to the creatively named “Burma Restaurant,” we dropped into the nearby Temple of Cun Yum… just because we could, and it looked like an intriguing educational opportunity. We were correct.

Dessert: quality time with a few more fellow Media & Comm. interns, along with our program adviser, at the monthly debriefing dinner, this Sunday perfectly situated at Crêpes-A-Go-Go. Anyone who would turn down a trip to a crêperie is not to be trusted. After discussing recent events over a few platefuls of fluffy deliciousness, we broke for the evening, to meet bright and early the following morning for the usual Monday programming.

Monday boasted a full schedule, beginning at the Capitol Building, pausing for lunch, and meeting back up for a tour of XM Satellite. Tuesday moved to food for thought over simply food as we discussed developing countries and democracies in my weekly course; as it turns out, we Dickinsonians know the democratic peace theory like nothing else. Try pulling a fast one on us and covering only one side of the argument, and we’ll call you on it. Can’t decide if I’m more proud of that moment or of the instance of referencing Thucydides in an earlier class…. a nerdy toss-up.

Much of the aforementioned class met once again on Wednesday to visit the traveling Terra Cotta Warriors exhibit at the National Geographic museum, certainly worth the extracurricular time for those of us who opted in – history staring you in the face. Somewhat unfortunately, I must admit that, once again, socializing centered on food, as I found myself at yet another crêperie (Crepeaway), this time with fellow classmates.

On the whole, the DC experience thus far has been a colorful and wonderfully multi-cultural one. Though I’d have to admit to missing Dickinson a bit - and nearly had a visitor one evening, thanks to potential stranding… the visit and conversation would have been more than welcome, without a doubt, though probably for the best that the stranding remained “potential,” not actual - I’m certainly enjoying the break from campus while it lasts…. visit pending for the near future

Filling my shoes… or trying to

Sometimes, inevitably, we feel as though we are incapable of filling the shoes we’ve stepped into--especially in a new work environment and new city, surrounded by new people and new opportunities. So it was for me: I was incapable of filling my own shoes... no no, quite literally, that is. Aside from the live entertainment I offered everyone commuting from Ballston to Rosslyn around 9 on Tuesday morning, stopping every two steps to fix my shoes, I’ve been quite comfortable.
     
That comfort level - aside from the shoes - has increased over time, as may be expected. It didn’t take long to get settled into the internship, and I’m proud to say that I’ve become a rather practiced Metro rider and city navigator. The “snowpocalypse” has pretty much subsided and, in most areas, it is once again possible to pass someone on the sidewalk without having to step knee-deep in snow banks. After a barrage of snow-related articles here at the Business Journal (how has the snow affected recent productivity, sales, budgets, etc), the obsession with precipitation is slowly but surely leaving newspapers to their usual beats.

While the Sculpture Garden is more logical in the spring, it turns out the area also features an ice rink during the winter – smack in front of the National Archives, home of the some of history’s most important pieces of legislation. Welcome to Washington. 

       
As to my own “beat,” so to speak, mixing things up has become a goal both in and out of the office. While at my internship, I continue to work on various “executive profiles,” speaking with local business leaders making a mark in their fields and assisting where necessary outside of that (checking event calendars, making phone calls, what have you). I’m getting to know the people I work with all the better, which makes for a much more positive, entertaining, and occasionally enlightening experience!
       
Outside of the office, however, is where the real fun begins - let’s not kid ourselves. While I enjoy the experiences I have the opportunity to garner through the internship, I’m not built for sitting at a desk and working at my computer all day. Time to go out and do things, see people, speak with them, experience that which I read and write about.
       

With this noble goal in mind, my roommate and I headed out to test the samosas at one of the several Indian restaurants in the area, Cafe New Delhi... a successful outing as a whole, I’d say, and it definitely put me in the mood for some Bollywood (confession: I’ve become a huge Bollywood fan; Abhishek Bachchan is my hero.). Sunday added to the cultural extravaganza with a trip to the National Gallery of Art, which museum alone includes two buildings and a sculpture garden, and will definitely require a return trip - particularly when said sculpture garden is not buried under snow. Still, an awesome experience, complete with gazing adoringly at Monet paintings, craning my neck, agape, to get a better look at huge Caldwell mobiles, and ultimately purchasing a mug featuring the Michelangelo quote “I am still learning.”.... that’s right, I’m cool.

The National Gallery of Art is absolutely beautiful- and not just the pieces housed there. Requires at least one trip, if not more. 

The East Wing of the National Gallery of Art features contemporary pieces, from Warhol and Pollack to this awesome Caldwell mobile. My advice: do not attempt to get a good look at it while going up/down stairs or escalators; you run the risk of tripping…. ahem. 

       
By the time I’d had my fill of the National Gallery of Art- for trip 1, at least - it was late afternoon and I wasn’t quite up for rejoining the crowds of families, school children, and elderly couples on their Valentine’s Day outing, all packed into the Metro. Thus, after much inner debate (to the point of passing the museum then thinking better of it and turning around), I headed in to the American Indian Museum.
     
My discovery last time I was there: the building itself is awesome, the idea is awesome, the gift shops inside are awesome but (of course) pricey, and the stairs can be a bit daunting, and the actual exhibits seem rather limited. Though all of the above still stands, for better or worse, this time I had serendipitously stumbled upon an annual, two-day celebration at the museum, “El Poder de Chocolate.” For the non-Spanish speakers out there, that’d be “The Power of Chocolate”- ah, es la verdad. Even better: I was right on time for the performance, an Incan “Scissor Dance” native to Peru, and performed by three ridiculously flexible and energetic young men accompanied by two brightly garbed musicians. Hands down, the most interesting visit I’ve had at the American Indian Museum... third time really is a charm.

What source of serendipity pushed me toward the American Indian Museum at just the right time? I know that as well as I know where those guys found their seemingly endless stores of energy… a non-blurred photo (at least with my camera) was impossible.

       
Other than that, not much to report and little planned for the rest of the week (for now, at least). Presidents’ Day on Monday meant another day off for many (again, not including myself), half of which I spent at WBJ, the other half of which I spent picking up my freshly repaired laptop and conducting a third failed trip to the Ghanaian Embassy in preparation for my summer internship there… since when do Ghanaians celebrate American Presidents’ Day, really?! Between that and extracurricular drama (four girls in one apartment, and you’ve got to be prepared for such nonsense), I was nearly ready to throw a shoe – a big one! Luckily, such mishaps are rare… and, as much as I hate shoes, the Payless across the street can help me fill my literal shoes as I hope to fill my figurative ones.

Rudolph in February

A man in the Metro this morning was singing “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer.” Yes, it is February.
     
As I sat perusing a book of travel essays and the girl beside me worked diligently in her French textbook, this man entered the train car, calmly but dejectedly stepped toward the nearest handrail, gripped it with both hands, closed his eyes, and rested his head, down turned, against the pole.  Under his large knitted hat, his face was worn and his beard was scraggily; the backpack strapped on behind him was equally worn and moderately full, disregarded as his coat hung at his sides and he stood quietly at the end of the train. After a mass exodus at one stop left few people and many empty seats on the car, he slowly opened his eyes, glanced around, and took the seat behind me. When I began to hear him speaking, I left the book, temporarily ignored, open on my lap and instead looked intently towards the window, trying to make out just what he was saying. It wasn’t until we neared my stop that I heard “All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names…”
       
From what I could tell, no one in the car reacted to this murmured rendition of a Christmas carol on a cold February morning. Honestly, I had the urge to sing along but limited myself to looking back and offering a sad sort of smile before getting off at my stop. I was returning to my high-rise apartment in Ballston after spending the morning at a Starbucks downtown, where my class met for coffee and discussion of our latest readings on ancient Chinese and Roman politics. And here this man sat behind me, a deep, tired baritone quietly singing a childhood classic.
       
My experiences in DC thus far have been fantastic. I love that I met with my professor and fellow students to discuss politics in a coffee shop on a Saturday morning; I love that I will be at the Journal office on Monday (though it’s a holiday) to work on an article before heading to the Ghanaian embassy with a few visa-related questions. I love that my roommate and I watched the opening ceremony to the Olympics in the “clubroom” of our apartment building, where we found ourselves in conversation with some random guy who joined in about halfway through the program. I love experiencing this city and the many things it has to offer (not the least of which being an Indian restaurant we’re headed to this evening). The most important aspects of any experience, though – at least the way I see it – are the everyday observations.
       
The classroom and internship opportunities, the museums and deep-rooted history at your fingertips, enjoying the various nightlife options in the DC area – all of these things are great, and they form a large part of the TWC experience…. but there’s more to the city than that. There’s more to every city than that. People from all walks of life can be found here, in this moderately sized city on the Eastern seaboard, the political capital of one of the leading countries of the world. Tourists come from all over the nation and world to see the memorials and museums, have their picture taken with a backdrop of the Washington Monument, and glimpse the White House from Lafayette Square. How many people come to see the man singing “Rudolph” in the relatively warm refuge of the Metro?
       
An English and Political Science major currently interning with a newspaper and taking a course on foreign policy, I hope to one day see much of the world, writing about international affairs and politics as I experience them firsthand. In moments like the one I experienced this morning, however, I can’t help but find it a bit silly. We sit high-mindedly discussing Sun Tzu over smoothies and croissants, linking timeless and universal matters of international relations back to the many issues the upcoming generation will have to face, then quietly ride the Metro back to our respective apartments, in the meantime passing by the very people who embody those problems facing today’s society.
       
While I certainly see the use in studying ancient history and international politics as they stood centuries ago, it feels somewhat absurd when faced with reality: a tired, middle-aged man singing “Rudolph” in February, looking as though the heavy world around him has battered and beat him into this faux state of uncaring tranquility, one quiet voice amidst a silent train car while we sped under the countless memorials and museums that hold the apparent wealth of this country, “leader of the free world.”

*Disclaimer: No, my apologies, this is not your typical blog. There are no pictures, and the one central anecdote isn’t all that funny. My instructions, however, were to write about my experience here in DC. If you ask me, this – unfunny as it may be – is a central part of that. In the classic movie “Dirty Dancing,” the character of Neil Kellerman, the owner’s son, makes one moderately intelligent statement in the entirety of the movie: “Sometimes in this world we see things we don’t want to see.” When given an opportunity to spend some real time in places like DC (or in Ghana, where I will be spending most of the summer), one of my main goals is to get a feel for the area as it truly is, not just the touristy spots. While the courses and internships offered through TWC are incredibly helpful and make for a great life experience, keeping your eyes open at all times is equally important, if not more so. There’s more to traveling than taking pictures and sharing misadventures in the form of entertaining anecdotes. …I do, of course, plan to share more of those next time; this is just a food-for-thought sort of moment between regular postings.

Continued (mis)adventures in the snow belt

I am amazed; absolutely amazed. Not by the amount of snow we’ve received in this “Blizzard of 2010” or “snowpocalypse” (the name of which, as it turns out, is absolutely fitting- by the local reactions to it, you’d think the world was coming to an end), and not even really by the resulting run on grocery stores and general shutting down of the city. No, I am amazed that I have not yet ended up sprawled out on the ice. For someone often lacking in grace, it is quite the miracle. Yesterday, of course, nearly ended the otherwise positive record, but I ultimately managed to catch myself on the side of a snow bank, all I have to show for it now being a short walk and conversation with the sympathetic guy who, lucky for him, walked by me just in time to catch the show.

Few braved the snow, but the majority of those who did expanded the “sidewalk” boundaries to the road itself. Hey, if cars aren’t using it, pedestrians might as well take advantage, right?

Random encounters with strangers, however, are great for breaking up the day and putting a smile on my face, if nothing more. Last Wednesday, for instance, was full of such encounters; after spending the early afternoon at the Israeli Embassy, speaking with students from the IDC (outside of Tel Aviv), I headed to my internship, planned for my semester’s involvement with the Association for India’s Development as my TWC civic engagement project, and brushed up on my Spanish on the way out of the building. *Top notch day.*

The story: as I entered the elevator, an elderly woman standing inside continued complaining about some “crazy woman” to her fellow custodian, a younger man who awkwardly glanced over at me as if to ensure that I didn’t understand the Spanish conversation taking place beside me. My staring straight ahead with as straight an expression as I could manage must have convinced him of my ignorance – at least enough to prevent him from interrupting the woman’s ranting. Reaching their floor all too soon, the woman babbled along as the young man quickly looked back into the elevator. We made eye contact; he smiled; I responded with my typical smile/smirk combination and declared “¡hasta luego!” Needless to say, the brief moment of surprise and succeeding laughter that erupted from him (followed by a similar salutation) was absolutely priceless.

As much as I’ve enjoyed my internship, it’s only fair that I admit that such breaking up of the day is very much appreciated on my part. Last week, for instance, I was out for much of Wednesday for the visit to the embassy, then on Thursday morning for the actual student dialogue about the Arab-Israeli conflict, and everyone headed out early on Friday in deference to the upcoming “snowpocalypse.” While I am at the Journal, though, I’m comfortably established at my own desk, working diligently at research for an upcoming piece, doing a brief web write-up, scheduling or conducting an interview with a local business honcho, or contributing to any other task that is in need of assistance. The people I work with are great – friendly, personable, helpful, and much more entertaining than one might expect at a business-focused publication, truth be told.

Still, it is experiencing the city itself, and the many cultures and opportunities it has to offer, that I have appreciated the most since arriving here. The visit to the Israeli Embassy was an awesome opportunity, as was the chance to speak with students in both an informal setting (over lunch on Wednesday) and in a more structured dialogue (Thursday). Israeli society and politics form just one aspect of my interest in international affairs and learning about other cultures, and having the ability to see the embassy and speak with Israelis on a one-on-one basis was an excellent way to apply what I’ve learned in class and followed in the news.

I headed back to “International Drive” after Wednesday’s visit to get another look at the various embassies in the area, this time with my camera. Advice: bring as little to the Israeli Embassy as possible; no need to unnecessarily alarm the Mossad (only partially kidding)!

Snow meant that much of the weekend was spent inside, including some quality roommate bonding, practicing our cooking abilities and ultimately frying up some frozen samosas, compliments of the aforementioned roommate and her mother’s excellent Pakistani cooking. Saturday turned more to the Indian side of things as I staged a conference call with local members of the Association for India’s Development (more on the civic engagement project later), and Sunday had me getting restless from being inside for so long, ultimately bundling up and heading to the snow-covered National Mall.

The Smithsonian was closed due to weather and I literally couldn’t feel my toes, but I’d say it was worth it: as beautiful as the city is under cherry blossoms, it can be just as impressive under a blanket of snow…. and based on the number of people building snowmen on the Mall and skating on the Reflecting Pool, I’m not the only one who’s enjoying the fluffy white stuff.

Proof that I wasn’t kidding about skating on the Reflecting Pool. Clearly there’s no way Jenny could’ve waded to Forrest through that.

The World War I Memorial was actually my main destination on Sunday’s visit; it looked all the more quaint and forgotten under the blanket of snow, calmly nestled away from the snowball fights taking place elsewhere along the Mall.

Let the games begin

Sometimes--or, in my case, often--life finds us in unexpected circumstances. Writing last week's blog post, for instance, found me sitting on the floor of our bathroom at 2 or 3 in the morning, in search of a quiet space in which I could focus without disturbing my sleeping roommate (don't be fooled by the time of the post). Last Wednesday found me briefly touring the White House with fellow disillusioned Media & Comm. students; Thursday found me filing my first web story, conducting a phone interview with a major company president, and then darting between socializing local business leaders at the Washington Business Journal's Book of Lists Celebration, attempting to be invisible as I made a bee-line for the buffet. If you’ve never tried “baked Alaska,” please do yourself a favor and procure some.

Photo courtesy of http://alaskaoffer.blogspot.com/2009/08/baked-alaska.html 

While the Book of Lists Celebration had networking as a top priority, I'm not ashamed to admit that the baked Alaska dessert was pretty much the highlight of my evening. 

The weekend, thankfully, found me relaxing and preparing for the coming week, as Tuesday will find me back at WBJ with another interview, Wednesday will find me visiting the Israeli embassy, and Thursday will find me in a dialogue with a group of Israeli students, discussing the high-tension topic of the Arab-Israeli conflict. Whew. Please pause as I catch my breath and grab a plate of tikka masala chicken and rice (which, I am pathetically proud to report, I made in the comfort of our apartment), because some form of food is required to boost my energy in the midst of this whirlwind.

      

In the mean time, I should note one thing: the laptop I am using currently is not my own, which is currently traveling the nation compliments of the Geek Squad. Thankfully, my lovely roommates have graciously leant me theirs. Don’t ask me why, but TWC lists “laptop” as something to either send for or purchase after arrival (though, freakishly enough, toilet paper made the list of things to bring with you)… I know, I know, people have different priorities. My recommendation, though: bring your laptop, buy the toilet paper. Logical? I think so.

       

Thus I spent part of the morning growing accustomed to a foreign laptop- foreign to me and foreign to this country. Admittedly, I didn’t notice the peculiar keyboard until I began typing and was horrified to see the number of typos involved. It was then that I noticed the “fin” instead of “end,” placed a few keys to the right of the “Ñ” and the “ç.” Indeed, Spanish; just one of the numerous new cultural experiences I’ve enjoyed since my arrival. 

Look closely, please. Non-English keyboards, for the record, are a bit off-setting! I couldn’t help taking a picture for posterity… absurd.

       

On the first day here, my parents and I went out for lunch at Chevy’s Fresh Mex restaurant just across the street, where we were helped by an excellent Indian waiter by the name of Deepak--a token beginning to the wonderfully multi-cultural region of DC. My first international keyboard was, in fact, preceded by my first time trying eggplant (which, warning, can smell semi-foreboding in the process of roasting it for baingan bharta), my first time being hit on in Spanish, and my first dinner at a sushi restaurant, to name a few. The new experiences and getting a taste of different cultures (literally) are definitely part of the fun of being here.

       

Speaking of new experiences, my placement as Washington Business Journal’s editorial intern is moving along at a speedy but relatively exciting clip. I was assigned my first piece within half an hour of arriving for my first day, and since then have published my first web story, interviewed a local business honcho and set up a second interview with another such important fellow for the coming week, not to mention getting a feel for the office and jumping (being thrown?) right into WBJ’s biggest event of the year, the Book of Lists Celebration at the National Building Museum. The building was absolutely decked out, as were some of the attendees; quite frankly, I was rather out of my league.  

National Building Museum= 100 percent impressive. Pillars, fountain, delicious buffets, and many business-sorts mingling about and exchanging business cards: I give you the Book of Lists Celebration at its finest.

       

The rest of the week has been equally on-the-go, but nothing too crazy to report here. Honestly, there’s little point in my informing you that taking a “tour of the White House” is not at all as exciting as it sounds, as my fellow Media and Comm. students discovered last week after choosing not to fully believe me. Really, it’s great for saying “I’ll be back in a bit; I’m going to tour the White House” (which, let’s admit it, is fun to say), and it’s great for checking out dishes and furniture that once graced presidential presences, but they’re not about to allow you to case the joint. Our next program bonding time was an optional dinner at a sushi restaurant in Arlington, which was fairly entertaining, regardless of the fact that virtually everyone was notably late and I don’t actually like sushi. It made for great company, great conversation, and a generally positive experience, raw creatures of the sea aside.

The coming week will hold plenty in store, not the least of which will include the visit to the Israeli Embassy and dialogues (compliments of additional TWC programming), getting better acquainted with my placement, and hopefully doing some more exploring. These flighty city folk have been easily scared off by the roughly two inches of snow we’ve received in the past couple of days; an Erie, PA native, I’d say their fears are a bit over the top. This fluffy stuff is what makes the cold of winter worthwhile – time to get out and enjoy it! 

¡Hasta luego!