theinternationallymindedamerican

Sometimes, even when you live in a city that others flock to for vacation, it’s easy to forget that you live in a really cool place.  I first learned this while living in Rome and, much to my horror, walked by the Spanish Steps one night without even blinking at their grandeur, like they were just another set of old marble stairs.

The same thing has happened to me in Washington, D.C., after living here for almost two-and-a-half years.  That time has flown by here in the U.S. capital, and like most long-term situations the initial sense of novelty and awe has faded into the background of the daily grind, i.e. the day-to-day routine.  For instance, the typical routine of a young professional in D.C.:  Wake up early to drag yourself to the gym, make a strong cup of coffee, groggily ride the Metro to work, get into “the zone” at the office, do your best at work, and groggily ride the Metro back home to scarf down some dinner (or groggily meet up with friends to scarf down some dinner) before catching some z’s and beginning the process over again.

They say to “stop and smell the roses,” and today I did just that, albeit completely by accident.  I’d taken a lunch break to run over to Good Stuff Eatery, close to the House of Representatives and a favorite burger joint of congressional staffers, to say hello to my friends Aaron and David, both of whom are buddies from my first days in D.C. and both of whom I had not seen in ages.  We caught up for a bit before I needed to head back to the office and began the brisk walk back.

Or so I tried.  I hadn’t planned to walk the twenty minutes to see Aaron and David that day, and that morning I had picked out a pair of cute high heels to go with my dress. It soon became clear that it was not the day to wear high heels, and my brisk walk morphed from quick strides to slow paces to a limping shuffle.  (Any girl who has tried to walk a long distance in high heels can quickly empathize).

As I limped along, I found myself walking in front of the U.S. Capitol.  I’ve walked in front of the Capitol and the National Mall dozens of times, but this time I was pretty much forced to make it a slow jaunt.  I noticed groups of tourists standing around, just looking up at the imposing building with their mouths open in awe or snapping away with their cameras.  Before I knew it, I too was taking some photos with my Iphone and enjoying the beauty of the city.  I even think my mouth was gaping open at one point.

After taking some photos and resting my throbbing feet for a minute, I made it back to my office, thankful to be able to sit down.  I was also thankful, in a way, to have been forced to slow down and be reminded of where I live.  Looking back on the 2.5 years, from when I first arrived in D.C. as a wide-eyed young professional not knowing what lay ahead, to the blessing of having the job I do now, I was reminded at how cool Washington, D.C., really is.  For all of its intensity, power trips, frustrations, and randomness, it really is a beautiful place.  I’m glad that I was reminded of that today.

And after I ride the Metro home, I’m going to soak my feet.  The next time I “stop and smell the city,” I’ll try to wear flip flops.

                      Thank you, evil high heels, for making me pause and enjoy this view

Last week had to be one of the most random weeks of my life.  Within the same week, not only was Washington, D.C., rocked by an earthquake, but it was also hit by a hurricane.  Even the usually composed newscasters on the evening news seemed a little stressed out, and the reporters on The Weather Channel could barely contain their glee at their moment of journalistic glory.

After evacuating from my office last Tuesday to regroup from the earthquake, it was almost immediately time to shift gears and prepare for Hurricane Irene.  The storm was set to hit D.C./Maryland/Virginia on Saturday, and naturally I wanted to be prepared.  Leon and I made a couple of trips to the grocery store after work to stock up on non-perishable items in case we had power outages during the storm.  On Friday, however, I wanted to run by the supermarket one last time.

I’ll be honest–the main reason why I wanted to hit the grocery store one last time was to stock up on treats.  The first couple of trips had been to purchase practical items, like cases of water, batteries for flashlights, canned goods, and so forth.  The more I thought about being cooped up in my apartment during the hurricane, though, the more I began to crave random things that I used to enjoy as a kid but don’t buy anymore in the name of “being a healthy adult.”

Case in point–while Friday afternoon shoppers were frantically clearing the aisles of toilet paper and bottled water, I was perusing the cereal aisle.  My cart soon held the treasures of Lucky Charms, Fruity Pebbles, and Frosted Pop-Tarts.  Now I was ready for Irene’s wrath.

                                  Empty shelves at the grocery store before Hurricane Irene

Saturday started out pretty calm, and I woke up wondering when the storm would begin to descend on the D.C. area.  I worked out at the gym, made a big pot of coffee, and watched the weather radar to keep track of the storm.  The sky looked pretty creepy–it was a dreary gray color, and you could see dark clouds slowly circulating, marching lifelessly along like they knew what was coming and had resigned themselves to it.

Starting Saturday afternoon the winds began to howl and the rain started to come down in sheets.  I stayed glued to the television and was saddened to hear that lives had already been lost in the hurricane, from falling limbs or car accidents.  No matter how long I had to be indoors, there was no way I was leaving my apartment.

I woke up Sunday to no power, as the electricity company had already warned would happen.  I couldn’t watch a sermon on television, since all of my electronics were dead, so I read a Bible devotional and sipped on some water, pretending like it was fresh coffee.  The day passed quietly, and I ended up taking a long nap, something I hadn’t done in ages.  It was still raining Sunday afternoon, but eventually the clouds gave way to actual sunlight.

Thankfully the power came back on Sunday evening, so I didn’t have to worry about heading into work on Monday without having a shower first.  Leon and I ended up taking a walk around my neighborhood to get some exercise and see how the streets looked.  Silver Spring had some damaged trees, but it looked overall like things were okay.  There were crowds of people outside, just hanging out and walking around, grateful that a new week was about to begin.  Everyone looked pretty weary, and the joke among many was, “I wonder which natural disaster we’ll have this week?”

Hopefully this week D.C. will have a break from crazy weather.  In the meantime, I also hope that my sugar coma from all of the kids’ cereals and Pop-Tarts wears off.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011, began as any other work day and did not feel like it was going to be a particularly special day.  My friend and coworker, Lisa, and I had gone out to the D.C. food trucks to grab lunch and had just finished eating.  We were quietly working away at our computers when, out of the blue, we both stopped typing and looked at each other.

My first thought was, “Are they doing construction on the building today?”  It felt like there were vibrations below us, building in strength until it felt like the building was shaking from side to side.  One of us remarked, “Let’s get out of here, now!” and we took off.

As we raced with our fellow colleagues and other building residents down the stairwell, my head was spinning.  My initial thought that the building was undergoing construction briefly gave way to thoughts of, “oh no, we are across from the Capitol and it’s almost the ten year anniversary of September 11,” to, “maybe it was an earthquake…but we don’t have earthquakes in D.C.”  As a Christian, I also wondered if the Rapture was happening and we would soon hear the heavenly trumpets sounding their call of Jesus’s return.

Once outside and once my eyes had adjusted to the bright sun, I was amazed at the crowds of people streaming out of the many office buildings.  Everyone sort of resembled a line of worker ants filing out of the spaces and into the streets.  People were chatting nervously and coming up with different theories about what happened.  That is, those who had left their offices without their phones were chatting–those of us who had grabbed our iPhones and Blackberries and so forth were intensely focused on Twitter, Facebook, and other social media to try to figure out what had happened.

Thanks to modern technology, news spread like wildfire.  People from New York to North Carolina to Florida took to social media to announce that they were also evacuating.  News reporters tweeted that a 5.8 magnitude earthquake had hit the East coast, with the epicenter located at the little town of Mineral, Virginia.  It was the first earthquake of that scale since 1897.

There was a collective sigh of relief upon hearing that it had been an earthquake and not a terrorist attack.  My friend Kristin, who works in the House of Representatives, said that congressional staffers had assumed the worst.  As well, defense officials had reportedly felt the Pentagon tremble and thought that we were getting attacked again.

Phone lines were quickly jammed and I couldn’t get any calls through, so I texted friends and family to let them know I was safe.  Leon had evacuated his office building up in Maryland, and I was glad to know that he and other loved ones were safe.  I later found out from the news that there were no reports of serious injuries, but that some damage had been done to buildings around D.C. and the National Monument would be closed indefinitely to fix some cracks caused by the tremors.

Needless to say, riding on the Metro did not seem like a great idea since there was talk of aftershocks occurring after the initial quake, so I ended up sticking around downtown D.C. with friends until traffic had cleared.  Leon managed to make it down from Maryland to pick me up, and we met up with his friend Tyler (who had just gotten into town for a business conference) to have some dinner.  Fittingly, we went to Old Ebbitt Grill, close to the crowds still hovering around the White House to see if anything would happen around there.  Everyone inside the restaurant was talking about the earthquake.  People were pretty shaken up (no pun intended).

Once traffic finally died down, Leon was able to drive me home to check on my apartment.  The building management had warned everyone to check cabinets carefully to see if anything had been broken, and I was anxious to see how my 13th floor apartment had fared.  Thankfully, all of my breakable items were fine and the electricity was working.

I stayed up late texting back friends and family, and I felt truly blessed to have people who cared enough to check on me.  Granted, the earthquake in D.C. was not nearly as catastrophic as the ones endured by Californians, for example, but it was still a pretty unnerving experience.  Being up high in an office building and feeling like the floor is going to give way is a pretty scary feeling.

The earthquake was a blunt reminder that even the center of American political power, Washington, D.C., is not infallible, and neither are its inhabitants.  Life can be interrupted or cut short at any moment, with no warning, and it is important to remember that.

Needless to say, I think that everyone in D.C. headed into work on Wednesday morning a little more aware of their own mortality.