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Ode to Noodles

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Noodles. Such a silly-sounding word for something so delicious and endlessly variable, eaten by most cultures around the world, and beloved in our family.

Apparently the English “noodle” comes from the German “nudel” in case you’re interested. The word “noodles” conjures up comfort in my mind. Generously buttered and salted egg noodles were always the go-to food in our family when tummies were upset, or one was just feeling down. My sister and I still like to eat any kind of leftover buttered noodles for breakfast, even when we are happy. (Despite the possible guilt brought on by the calories, and sodium and cholesterol bomb.)

I recall one of my first encounters with a noodle that was not buttered or smothered in a vaguely Italian tomato-based sauce. (I’m looking at you, Chef Boyardee…and also remembering my mother’s signature canned tomato-soup, bacon and bell pepper spaghetti sauce recipe.) I was maybe about six or seven, and our family was having a rare meal out, at a Chinese restaurant in Patterson, New Jersey. I demanded spaghetti.

No amount of the grown-ups trying to explain that “Chinese people did not eat spaghetti” would console me. I had to have spaghetti; nothing else would do. And so, the waiter, who knew perfectly well that “Chinese people” might not call it spaghetti but certainly did eat noodles, brought something that was, well, not spaghetti but was definitely in the noodle family. Lo mein maybe? Wish I could say it was a big hit with me, but I think someone else had to eat it.

Fast forward to international cuisine opening to me like the beautiful flower it is. My personal awakening involving various noodle dishes thankfully got better as I got older. I recall the first time the amazing world of Vietnamese pho was revealed to me, back around 1990 when visiting my colleague Lynn in Hawaii. (Then the state folk arts coordinator of Hawaii, but later to become my friend and confidant when she moved to the same position in New Hampshire, and we conspired in the co-curation of the 1999 New Hampshire program… but that is another story entirely.)

I almost cried out to my huge bowl of noodles, swimming together in fragrant broth with its compatriots of lean beef, Thai basil, and bean sprouts – “Where have you been all my life?” Well, maybe I’m being dramatic, but still. It was truly life-changing. Move over, buttered noodles, there’s another crave-worthy comfort food in town.

Today, as for many years, the homemade noodles and dumplings at Chinatown Express in what is left of downtown DC’s Chinatown is the go-to for cheap and authentic eats. Many an intern has been introduced to this modest, no-frills establishment on 6th Street, and it is a de rigueur outing for my daughter and I whenever she visits DC. I even convinced our office to order a boatload of dumplings and noodles from there for our holiday party this past year. I should be getting a commission?!

Our new family favorite at the Vietnamese complex, The Eden Center (usually where we go for pho because you can just throw a lime wedge in any direction and hit a place serving pho there) is actually a tiny Thai Street Food joint, Kao Sarn. Their noodle soups will bring back the memory of eating at any small partially outdoor stall in Bangkok or Chiang Mai by anyone who has visited Thailand and experienced “real street food. ” (Well, except for the price, but then you don’t have to fly half way across the globe to eat here if you’re a local, so there’s that.)

In short, there’s a whole world of noodles out there to conquer, and while nowadays I am partial to Asian noodle dishes, despite my childhood encounter with “Chinese spaghetti,” I have absolutely nothing against attacking noodles and noodle-adjacent dishes of all shapes, sizes, sauces, and cultural origins with gusto. Pierogies, halushki, ravioli, wagon wheels, seashells, carbonara, momos, spaetzle, ramen, udon, soba… the list is inexhaustible.

Hungry yet? If not, these photos of various noodle experiences will surely put you over the edge. Go forth, eat noodles, and be comforted.

I honestly don’t recall what noodle dish this is, but I would eat it again in a heartbeat.
One of the many trips to Chinatown Express, I think with friend and colleague Lora. I usually default to the chicken noodle soup, though all the flavors I’ve tried have been equally yummy. As well as the dumplings. And the scallion oil accompaniment is a revelation too.
Whenwe visited Hanoi, Steve discovered he could order pho for breakfast. Not only that, but after he polished off one bowl, he could ask for another. The tiny hotel we were staying in did not have its own kitchen, they just stepped outside into the alley and flagged down a street vendor.
Our friend Ang, who was our cultural guide during a trip to Thailand, demonstrates how to eat “real Thai street food” in Chiang Mai.
M.E. slurps up some Boat Noodle Soup at the Eden Center.
Just before Christmas last year, we visited Philadelphia. Their Chinatown has some amazing noodle establishments as well, including this one.
Honestly, I do not recall taking this photo but it came up when I searched my photos for “noodles.” I think I would skip “sauerkraut balls” (sorry to say) but cabbage and noodles, called by the Slovaks “halushki,” is always OK by me.
A big old bowl of Japanese noodles with a side of California roll, in New York City. Excuse me while I start dinner…

Alaska By Sea, Part Two: Flora, Fauna and Impressive Ice

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In my last entry, I scratched the surface of the history and culture we encountered during our recent Alaska adventure. And teased that this second installment would do the same for the plants, animals – and glaciers.

Fauna first. Alaska is home to scads of land and aquatic animals, and of course hordes of birds, that is not exactly new news. We expected to see a fair amount of them, and we did. But it was usually from a distance, and the only binoculars we had were the ones the Viking folks kindly provided. Serviceable but not very good. So, lesson one: bring your own high powered binoculars if you go on an Alaska cruise, no matter how much space they take in your luggage!

I am particularly enamored of sea otters. (Who isn’t?) I’ve seen them “up close and personal” in Northern California and was somehow expecting to see them everywhere on our cruise. They were out there, just a bit too far away to appreciate. My pictures all show specs outlining their telltale head and flipper/feet profile. I began referring to them as “ESO” as in “elusive sea otter.”

There were bald eagles, orcas, other type of whales, seals, sea lions. A bear or two, salmon, mountain goats: all more or less from a distance. Instead of being disappointed, I started being philosophical about it. I knew they were out there, we were sharing space and I was experiencing and enjoying their landscape. But, really, why should I be impinging on their habitat and their peaceful day?

Flora second. The forests and foliage of Alaska are very cool. The best and closest chance we got to learn about the rainforest environment was a shore excursion to Glacier Gardens, a private and rather quirky swath of rainforest created by a man named Steve Bowhay and his wife beginning in the mid-1980s, and lovingly maintained and interpreted in detail by a cadre of seasonal devotee employees. First, you admire the “upside down trees” (uprooted in a storm, and “planted” roots up, with small gardens at the top, see photo) and other semi-maincured gardens at the base of the garden. Then, you ascend 600 feet up a corduroy (buried log) road in a sort of tram thing to a spectacular vista, learning about the rainforest as you go from the driver/guide. A bit terrifying, but very edifying and impressive.

And third, the glaciers. According to the U.S. Geological Survey web site, “A glacier is a large, perennial accumulation of crystalline ice, snow, rock, sediment, and often liquid water that originates on land and moves down slope under the influence of its own weight and gravity.” So, basically, a very, very slow-moving wall of ice that accumulates stuff as it goes. Too many glaciers to list, or even remember, were pointed out to us, some high in the mountain crevises. But the two most memorable ones to me were those that had reached the sea. They frequently shed big hunks (called “calving”) which I kept watching for but never really saw in action. But, no matter.

My two favorite glaciers that we saw on the trip were the Johns Hopkins Glacier which we sailed up as close as a hulking, 900-passenger cruise ship can get, and the Aialik Glacier which we saw even closer on a smaller boat during our tour of the Kenai Fjord National Park. Here is a very informative story map about glaciers at Kenai Fjords, if you are curious to know more about them. My impressive was a general disbelief that I was actually there, seeing them in person. And being really glad that, although I would have gotten a much closer look at both wildlife and glaciers, I was safe and relatively warm on my boat and not one of the people out there kayaking right up to the glacier. I like a good paddle, but I prefer the water and air temperature to be somewhat more temperate than even summer in Alaska, no matter how many layers of clothing I might have on and no matter what a good sweat I might work up.

It was sad when we had to disembark from the cruise ship in Seward and relegate ourselves to dry land. But the whole experience was enriching, awe-inspiring, and at times even breath-taking. (Literally, when a stiff wind and temperatures in the 40s hit you simultaneously.)

Here are some snaps, which don’t do justice really, but give some idea. And prove that despite my feeling of surreal disbelief, we were there. A highly recommended journey!

See the tiny black dot at center bottom? You guessed it, the ESO in its vast surroundings as seen from our statehouse balcony.
This is how extremely cute the ESO is up close, as seen in our ship’s naturalist’s photos. (I’m told up close and personal they are also not anywhere as cuddly as they appear and they smell very fishy.)
Most eagles we saw were hanging out, like this one, amid “civilization.” They have adapted quite well to living side by side with humans and their stuff it seems.
Where there are glaciers there are icebergs. And often, harbor seals hanging out on them, which you can (maybe) see on the far right and as tiny specks in the farther away bergs.
Most orcas are roughly the size of a school bus. But when seen in the context of the sweeping sea and landscapes of Alaska, and with only the aid of a phone camera, that just doesn’t register.
I loved the way that public art (even on a dumpster!) depicted the local wildlife.
Native art of course also reflects the natural world, as I reported in the last blog entry. Here, a walrus made of found materials including hub caps, at the State Museum in Juneau.
It helps to know your bears, and to heed the advice not to approach them. Though here in Valdez I didn’t see any real bears, as they were not hanging around the salmon run that day. Just as well?
Several times we learned how to remember the various types of salmon by the fingers on our hand: thumb/chum, pointer finger/sockeye (as the finger you would use to poke someone in the eye!), king/middle and longest finger, silver/ring, pinky/pin. But referring to this chart is handy too!
An interpretive native garden in downtown Skagway. We learned that the profusion of light (and of course ample rain) in the summer months makes things grow faster and bigger, so the shorter growing season is somewhat compensated. And, your rhubarb grows to be enormous.
“Upside down trees” at Glacier Gardens. Clever and a great for marketing the experience.
The road you ascend in Glacier Gardens, 600 feet up, with running commentary by the driver/guide.
View from the top of the hill.
The plant in the foreground is Devil’s Club, also known as Alaskan Ginseng (though it is not in the same family as American Ginseng). But you know it got my attention when I heard that knickname!
Like ginseng, Devil’s Club is proported to cure a variety of ills. The gift shop at Glacier Gardens carried products made from the plant, which apparently gets its name from its sharp and to-be-avoided spines!
On our trip over White’s Pass in Skagway, our guide showed us where the wild blueberries were at one of our scenic stops. Picked a few to try, a yummy taste of the wild!
Me, looking cold and not terribly happy, with Johns Hopkins Glacier in the background.
The glacier is a lot more attractive without me in the photo.
See the little black speck in the lower right hand portion of the photo? That is the kayakers at the base of Aialik Glacier. Call me unadventurous, but I preferred letting them lend scale to the photo than being them.
Round center of historic roof of West Baden Springs hotel with green light at center.

Indiana Adventure II: Sampling Historic Splendor (for Free) in French Lick

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Taking our trip around SW Indiana somewhat out of order, I am jumping to our day in French Lick and West Baden Springs, Indiana. In case you never heard of these historically significant towns, they are an example of those places where people took trains (or perhaps drove their motorcars) from “the city” (Indianapolis, or Chicago, or other Mid-Western metropolises) to “take the waters.”

The massive resorts had their ups and downs, which I will not elaborate on here, but happily survived Jesuits, fires, the Sheraton Hotel company, and other perils to be restored to their former glory. Today, the relatively wealthy and sometimes even famous spend time in the hallowed halls and grounds, getting spa treatments, gambling at the casino, taking in a show, playing golf or just relaxing. Peggy and I, however, took it all in (as the cheap voyeurs we are) without spending a dime.

Here, I shall share our itinerary for a couple of hours of historic splendor and awe. First, we did spend a few bucks fortifying ourselves with ice cream, and wandered around downtown French Lick. Unfortunately, it was Sunday and the historical museum was closed, but we got the gist of “Pluto Water” which was a one-time bottled product of the Springs, from objects readable from the museum’s window, and from an old advertisement on the side of one of the buildings. A jaunty, muscular devil was their brand icon, and their slogan was “When nature won’t, Pluto will” (I.e., this was a natural laxative kind of beverage).

Next, we drove across the road and parked (for free) at the expansive lot in front of the French Lick Hotel. On our way into the lobby, we read historic markers including one about the invention of tomato juice, and then ascended the impressive staircase. We marveled awhile at the ornate lobby, and inquired about the historic trolley which transports people to West Baden Springs, and stopped to glance over cases of historic artifacts (including more Pluto water paraphernalia) and the famous people photos.

Next, after waiting a few minutes at the charming little depot, we boarded the (free!) trolley for the one-mile clackety clack trip through the woods to West Baden Springs. We disembarked and headed straight into the hotel and through the lobby. Once dubbed “the Eighth Wonder of the World” (how many of those are there?), one really needs to experience the hotel’s massive central atrium, which features a 200-foot dome, for oneself to get a sense of its scale and unique design.

Luckily, again for free, mere mortals can loll on a couch in the atrium and stare up at the dome and the hotel rooms arranged around it, for as long as one likes. Peggy and I did just that, zoning out and watching the lights at the top of the dome changing colors. “Are we really here?” and “Is this really real?” we had to ask ourselves.

Breaking away from the mesmerizing atrium, we walked around the atrium to view the enormous Rookwood pottery fireplace, featuring “Sprudel” – an impish figure frolicking among the landscape of the artwork. We roamed the circular hallways enjoying historic photos, and spent a few minutes learning more about the property’s history in their tiny museum.

Here we learned that a movie had been recently shot in the hotel and on the grounds, called “How Cold the River” the plot of which leans heavily on a very ominous bottle of Pluto water. (We had to watch it, of course, after we got home to Peggy’s house. Not highly recommended for anything except the great views of the hotel, and a few laughs at the rather incomprehensible plot.)

After a brief amble around the garden, we climbed aboard the trolley to return through the woods and over the creek to French Lick, our car, and reality. Having spent not a penny, but all the richer for our trip through time and space.

Not actually The Devil, but Pluto, god of the underworld…close enough and still as creepy.
Splendor #1, the lobby of the French Lick Hotel. Thank goodness an influx of millions saved it from the renovation done by the Sheraton Hotel company, which covered the amazing tile work and other ornamentation. What were they thinking??
More homage to Pluto Water. The framed postcard at the bottom dated 1937 and says “Pluto keeps the tin canner on the can.” It looks like a camper made from a Pluto truck and/or advertising the water, which somehow was spotted in Kenosha, WI. That Pluto really got around.
First view of the West Baden Springs hotel, exterior. It is hard to fathom what lies inside from here, but still highly impressive from the outside.
And now… the star of the show! The Atrium. Note small love seat type couches, which is where we sprawled ourselves, totally entranced by the dome lights cycling through their colors. The windows all around the atrium are hotel rooms, and the approximately $300/night might be worth the view.
Though dwarfed (so to speak) by the Atrium, Sprudel’s fireplace, made up of hundreds of pieces of famous Rookwood pottery, burned 14 foot logs… so nothing to scoff at.
All aboard the magical historic trolley for the all too brief ride back to the real world!

Indiana Adventure I: Adze the World Turns

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On a recent trip to Indiana, my old stomping grounds (from starting grad school in 1977 to leaving for a job at the Smithsonian in 1987), I had many adventures with my dear friend and fellow “wander Indiana” enthusiast, Peggy Sailors. I will report in a series of scenarios and photos!

Adventure #1 was a trip to Terre Haute to attend the “Art of the Adze” exhibition curated by colleague Jon Kay, the State Folklorist of Indiana. I had once held this position for a couple of years in the early 1980s, but he’s really done a much finer (and longer lasting) job of it, I must admit. He and his intrepid research assistant, Katya Chomitzky, curated this lovely exhibition on wooden bowl hewing (AKA “chopping”). They had planned a “Chop In” or “Chop-a-Thon” featuring a gaggle of wooden bowl artisans, which we could not miss.

This event took place at the otherwise tony small art museum, the Swope, in the middle of downtown Terre Haute. Just a wood chip’s toss from quiet galleries featuring works of Grant Wood, Edward Hopper, and Andy Warhol, among others, the din of the the chopping of three generations of bowl makers rang out joyfully. A museum volunteer gamely tried to contain the chips (which fell “where they may” and defied staying on the tarps that had been laid down to protect the floor) with a broom.

Present in spirit, and in memory, was the Father of All Indiana Bowl Choppers, Bill Day, from West Lebanon (may he rest in peace, though maybe he’s chopping bowls beyond the Pearly Gates and driving St. Peter to distraction?). Peggy and I had interviewed Bill and visited with him and his wife Marion while working on a state-wide crafts exhibition called “Materials at Hand.” (More about that at a later date, as it really bears a revisit.)

Bill was a short but powerful retired farmer, with a distinctive high-pitched scratchy voice and an even more distinctive laugh (something like the braying of a donkey combined with a buzz saw maybe?). He honed, so to speak, his already wide knowledge of working with wood into a second career of splitting logs for fence rails. Then, when Marion brought home an old wooden bowl from an antique store, he pondered how to make such a vessel. After perfecting the method (which requires hewing large pieces of green wood with a series of adzes) and making a noisy mess in their house, Marion shoed him out. He rented a small former utility building in “downtown” West Lebanon, dubbed Bill’s Chop Shop.

Bill’s work earns a prominent place in the exhibition, and his memory is well preserved by the older current choppers in attendance a the Chop-In. It was gratifying to hear them speak so fondly of Bill and his work, his generosity of spirit in teaching others, and his time as resident bowl chopper at the Indiana State Fair’s “Pioneer Village.” And also to see that the “art of the adze” is being passed on down the generations. (The youngest chopper in attendance at the event was a strapping 15-year old.) And to see that several women have found their way to bowl chopping, too!

Check out the exhibition and Chop-In!

Peggy (right) and me (left) pose in front of the sign that pays homage to Bill Day and even mentions us!

The sounds and sites of the Chop-In! Featuring in this grouping, the Ruble family, led by patriarch Keith, who succeeded Bill Day as chief bowl chopper at the State Fair. He taught his sons Andy and Luke and daughter in law Kasey, all seen (and heard) chopping here.

Choppers assembled to exchange info and get their photo taken in the gallery. Youngest chopper, Luke Boyll, is in right forefront with his teacher/mentor Blaine Berry.
View of exhibition showing in forefront some excellent examples of Bill Days work. (These were loaned by Peggy!)
Terre Haute, as it says on this historic marker, is located at the cross-roads of America, as this historic marker tells us. This spot being the crossing of US Highway 40 and 41. Which just goes to show that Indiana is at the center of all good adventures…so tune in next time for more!

There’s More to Baltimore

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Baltimore…so close to DC but a whole other experience. A couple of weeks ago, my sister was visiting from South Carolina, and we took a brief but action-packed journey to Charm City. She had some Marriot points, so we stayed “in style” right on the Inner Harbor near Pier 5. A room with a view from the 14th floor, no less.

The first things we did, after checking into our hotel, was to walk around the harbor to the Visitor Center. Here we met an amiable older gent named Sonny, who took us under his wing and gave us excellent suggestions on sites and how to get there. Handing us a map of the bus routes, he explained the free circulator bus that would get us just about anywhere worth going.

We ignored his first suggestion of visiting Fort McHenry, as we wanted to stay closer to the harbor. Instead, we took the short walk over to Cross Street Market in the Federal Hill neighborhood, and had a delicious Haitian vegetarian meal from one of the stands. Next, a visit to the incomparable American Visionary Arts Museum, also in the neighborhood. A brief but free water taxi ride later, we were back at our hotel to rest up before dinner. We picked Sonny’s choice, one of the oldest restaurants in nearby Little Italy, Chiapparelli‘s. Even though I thought there was no way to fit more food into my stomach, we then walked to Fell’s Point for gelato.

Our second day, we set out on the Circulator bus to the Johns Hopkins University campus, where the Baltimore Museum of Art is located. (First, we had to fortify ourselves by walking a few blocks east to a commercial strip of neighborhood for some coffee and bagels.) I was especially impressed by the Cone Sisters collection, which includes a lot of Impressionists and things that the rich sisters had bought from Gertrude Stein when she needed money.

Next, we set off for Lexington Market. You can’t take a free circulator bus there directly, so we had to do some map-reading to figure it out, but it was only about four blocks from the purple line route. The last time I visited Lexington Market, it was in the “old building” which is right next door to the “new building” which most businesses have moved to. Except Faidley’s, the quintessential destination for what is touted as the best crab cake in Baltimore, which we had to experience. Indeed, it is a masterpiece, especially eaten standing up at a wooden table. The patina of their of the old location, open since 1886, will never be matched if/when they move to the new building.

After a visit to the nearby graveyard where Edgar Allen Poe’s mortal remains reside, we realized that the “arts crawl” in the Bromo District that we had signed up for was – horrors – actually the next week (duh!), but that gave us a good excuse to go back to our hotel and chill for awhile before seeking a light dinner, and then indulging in a marathon Food Channel watching spree.

The next morning, we awoke to the golden light bouncing off the harborscape, packed up and took ourselves to the iconic (but perhaps overrated) Miss Shirley’s Cafe‘s downtown location, and drove back home. Only the fact that we had walked many miles both days kept us from having gained five pounds.

Left: View from the “Bird’s Nest” at the American Visionary Art Museum, looking toward main building and downtown. Below: Baltimore painted screen exhibition at the museum.

Free water taxi across the harbor.
Despite its many good points, trying to get from one point to another within the Baltimore Museum of Art is not intuitive in the least. We must have gone through the Jon Waters Rotunda, where this curious piece of art resides, at least four times to reach other exhibitions!
Now, that’s what I call a crab cake! It’s at least the size of a softball, maybe bigger.
Golden morning light on the harbor, looking west.

A Very Philly Holiday Trip

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With the premise that we must see the current Matisse in the Thirties exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, even though none of us is a huge Matisse fan, I devised a mini-vacation to Philly for our little family. Christmas in Philadelphia, we were assured by tourism sites, is full of lights, vibrancy, and shopping opportunities.

We’d been to New York City at Christmastime in the past, and it was a big, crowded mess around Times Square and Rockefeller Center. Exciting, buzzing with activity, but a bit too frenetic for me. Downtown Philly had a lot of energy, but a much more relaxed and laid-back excitement. It seemed more full of locals than tourists.

It helped that everything we set out to see downtown was very compact, within an easy walking distance of the downtown hotel we picked. And, even though Philly has a sort of rough, gritty reputation for those of us from “more civilized” Washington, DC, even after dark we felt perfectly safe.

Here is our Philly travelogue in photos and captions. Thanks, Philly, for sharing your exuberant holiday spirit with our family. Here’s hoping everyone finds and keeps their own inspiration for a safe, happy and healthy holiday and carries that feeling into 2023!

We arrived in time to catch the four o’clock light and sound show at Macy’s, which is right across from City Hall. People get there early and camp out to get the best view from the first or second floor. (So go early and just wait!) It’s less than 15 minutes but they cram a lot of lights, projections and storyline (narrated by Julie Andrews no less), and of course the famous Wanamaker Organ, which is this time of year mostly behind the color-changing Christmas tree.
Next stop, since by then we were really hungry, was Chinatown. We’d scoped out a no frills noodle house with good reviews, and it didn’t disappoint. We had to take the dumplings we ordered with us, since our big bowls of noodle soup filled us up and fortified us for the next leg of the adventure.
Franklin Square, not far from Chinatown, has a brief light show and a family vibe. In addition to the lights, you can play mini-golf or sit around a fire pit enjoying hot beverages. (Note the “kite and key” theme.)
Back to the heart of downtown where City Hall is abuzz with activity, from a ferris wheel to an ice rink (where we stood, transfixed, watching the Zamboni groom the ice – what is it about that?) and lots more.
One side of City Hall has a light show with imaginative interpretations of holiday songs. (This part reminded me more of a birthday cake than the holidays, but it was festive anyhow.)
Nearby Love Park hosts sales stalls in their “authentic German Market.” (Bratwurst and sauerkraut, anyone?) It was fun to roam around checking out the holiday wares, and I especially liked the display of glass ornaments on offer.
Reading Terminal Market, still going strong after opening its doors in 1893, was also a short walk from our hotel and the perfect place to find breakfast options before our Museum visit that suited all of our tastes. I picked this crepe with egg, cheese and veggies, while Steve had a really messy but yummy and healthy-looking vegan sandwich and M.E. chose Tom Kha soup from a Thai stall. Something for everyone!
Okay, finally on to visiting Matisse. I liked these two interpretations of the Nice waterfront. (I got kind of sick of all the nudes in various iterations, large, small, and in between.) As I sat on a bench contemplating the similarities and differences of these two works, a mom and daughter (around 7 or 8) sitting next to me discussed the paintings. The mom asked the daughter which one she preferred and she had some interesting reasons for liking the one to the right, including that the green of the trees reminded her of guacamole.
After we had our fill of Matisse, we split up and headed to see other art in this vast and varied museum. You could (and should) spend hours and hours here exploring the three floors of mostly European, American and Asian art. I headed to the Impressionists, but then wandered around the American and Asian art, encountering period rooms, decorative arts such as this collection of American glass pieces, and other wonders.
I encountered several of the museum’s installations of reproduced temples, a Japanese tea house, and parts of Medieval churches, all very atmospheric. This 500 year old Chinese temple ceiling is incredibly intricate.
I somehow happened upon this contemporary installation of lights, which seemed very holiday-ish given the time of year. Apparently, several museums have iterations by this Dutch artistic group (called Drift), and no two are quite the same. (And they do a lot of other cool stuff too.) According to their web site, “DRIFT manifests the phenomena and hidden properties of nature with the use of technology in order to learn from the Earth’s underlying mechanisms and to re-establish our connection to it.” What’s not to like about that?
Garden seen through a gate on either side with lone figure on right side.

Playing Tourist Around Town

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Sometimes, we forget that the Washington, DC area has so much to see and do. We get complacent in our own immediate home spaces, or think we need to get far away to “get away.” This late summer and early fall, I’ve been trying to prove that theory wrong by being a tourist in my own town (or city in this case). Here’s some of the places worth a visit.

Green spaces are particularly abundant in the DC area. The National Arboretum off New York Avenue has over 400 acres and “9 miles of winding roadways” to explore by foot or by car. There’s always something blooming throughout the growing season, and even in winter you can go “forest bathing” apparently. (That is not a bath in the woods, but some sort of guided nature walk.) You can walk all the way down to the Anacostia River and sit contemplating life. If you are into growing your own food, my husband and I discovered there is also an extensive vegetable garden with educational programs.

While the Arboretum is free, to enter Dumbarton Oaks garden in Georgetown you have to pay a reasonable fee. My visiting sister and I thought it was highly worth the admission. We took a guided tour with one of the docents, who imparted interesting information, like how the vegetation, walls and lawn furnishings create “garden rooms” all around the grounds. Then we wandered up and down the multi-level property admiring the late summer blooms and hidden spaces. If we’d had more time, we could have also visited the historic house/museum, which is free.

Speaking of Georgetown, the C&O canal runs through its downtown. Its pathway makes for a pleasant walk, although until recently a lot of it was choked with weeds and not particularly picturesque. Now, for the first time in years, a new semi-accurate historic canal boat is available for tours, with a costumed guide. My “Lunch O’Clock” work buddies and I took a ride on the revamped vessel on a lovely day in late September. I’m still not sure I understand how locks work, but that’s okay. It was fun to go through one.

Historic houses also abound in the Washington, DC Metro area. My husband and friend Janette stumbled upon the Clara Barton House near Glen Echo Park one day after attending a festival at the park. Run by the National Park Service, this spacious house was built for Civil War nurse-hero and founder of the American Red Cross by the guys who built the park – sort of a long story, but anyhow, she designed it and used it for a home and headquarters. It is kind of sparsely furnished right now due to some renovations, but very atmospheric, and interesting to learn about this phase of her life.

Being a tourist in your own town/city is fun, economical, and can cause you to look at things from different angles. As we ease into the late fall and winter, we will no doubt be cocooning at home more, but I look forward to exploring more DC sites in the future. It’s a good time to start making a list!

View from a bench along the Anacostia River at the base of the Asian Garden, National Arboretum.
A tour of Dumbarton Oaks begins in the Orangerie not far from the entrance. The greenery running along the top of the walls and over the beams, we learned, is all part of one indoor tree which is over 100 years old. Crazy!
Every corner of Dumbarton Oaks has structures, walls and walkways accentuating the gardens. The fall colors were gorgeous.
This non-historically-dressed helper kept the Georgetown canal boat from hitting the sides of the canal during our ride, which was quite breezy. (Gave us the illusion of being on a very large and unwieldy gondola.)
Opening the lock gate to let in the water! Or was it let out the water? To me, this whole process still defies physics and logic. But it has worked for hundreds of years, so no matter.
Inside the Clara Barton house, looking up the levels. You couldn’t go above the first floor, so just had to sort of imagine the rooms up there.
All along the hallway on the first floor, Barton designed ingenious hidden closets. They just look like panelling from the outside, but from the inside reveal storage space for medical supplies, training materials, and office items.
I got out on the water kayaking, seeing familiar sites from new perspectives, as well. The DC boat houses sell season passes, and there are five of them along the Potomac and Anacostia. The Potomac can be a challenging paddle sometimes due to currents, and you have to watch for everyone else in (usually bigger) boats plying the waters!

More Blooming

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Spring keeps yoyoing around here this year. It gets warm, and then warmer, and then back in the 50s again. Still have not liberated the little tomatoes and peppers (some of which are quite large now!) from their pots yet. But the greens and radishes are flourishing, at least.

Gardening and work on our upcoming Earth Optimism x Folklife program for the 2022 Smithsonian Folklife Festival are about all I’ve had time for lately, with a couple of Easter celebrations thrown in for good measure.

And a visit to other gardens, as you will see below. Hope to have something more exciting and further afield next month (as once a month seems to be the average for me posting this year). But for now, here are some pictures from my April-early May “blooming adventures”!

Once again, my bleeding heart plant rose from nowhere and produced its delicate blooms.
My friend Marianne invited me to tour the White House gardens with her. I was impressed by the kitchen garden!
These were my favorite orchids at the annual Smithsonian orchid exhibition which honored women’s contributions to orchid research and conservation. Yeah, women!
I was trying to get a clear shot of the bees feasting on these azaleas at the Brighton Dam Azalea Garden in Maryland. You can sort of see the bee in the lower right or at least his/her “bee butt.”
Okay, not a blossom but even tastier and as pretty as a flower…. our friend Khamo brought her homemade momo dumplings to our little Orthodox Easter celebration. Delish!
And, just for fun… seen on my walk to the Virginia Square metro!

New Year’s Revelations

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Since New Year’s Resolutions usually don’t work out very well, I decided “revelations” would be more fun to explore. But really this a sort of review of things I’ve been doing and places I’ve been in the past couple of months, that did not make it into my other 2021 blogs. But I’ll try to frame them as “revelations” to fit into my chosen theme!

But for those of you who actually like resolutions, there’s a fun way to make some, courtesy a randomly generated wacky collection courtesy the new Futures exhibition currently in the refurbished Smithsonian Arts and Industries building. Just follow that link, and click in the white box inside the green circle with the little robot looking thing in the right bottom corner. It’s sort of addictive. My favorite one was “As often as possible I will fire things from a trebuchet.” (My daughter and I have a thing for trebuchets after seeing a show on PBS about them one time years ago.)

2022 still sounds rather futuristic, but it’s here. I always try to end on a hopeful note in these blogs, so here’s hoping for some good things this year. Meanwhile, here are my “illustrated relevations.” (NOTE ABOUT FEATURED IMAGE ABOVE: This plate of tandoori roasted vegetables at a Jersey City, NJ Indian restaurant, encountered in November, was a true revelation of deliciousness. The American flag is a nice touch, too. Here’s to more culinary adventures in 2022 like this one!)

Sometimes revelations come close to home. Here, the new canal boat that will, later this year, start taking tourists on a historic journey along the C&O canal is revealed to be sitting around waiting in Georgetown.
As friends and family celebrated the life of my husband’s cousin Wendy, who passed away in November, in the outdoor dining structure of a restaurant in Greenwich Village, NYC, a humongous thunder, lightning and hail storm blew through. While we were skeptical that we would emerge unscathed, it was a revelation that these pandemic inspired structures are really quite sturdy. And that the temperature can drop 30 degrees in a matter of minutes.
The camelia garden at the Hilton Head Island Coastal Discovery Center is a revelation. Who knew there were so many types of camelias and that they bloomed so beautifully in December? Well, the Camelia Society did of course!
While I knew my father once sported a very jaunty ‘stache, finding this image in my mom’s collection of randomly arranged photos was a revelation just the same. My daughter got a kick out – she never knew my dad but is getting an idea of his sense of humor and “spirit of adventure” from these old photos.
The annual decorating of the cookies is always revealing of the strange imaginations of my daughter, husband and even myself. I actually turned what was supposed to be holly into The Yellow Submarine this year.
Not sure of the revelation here, though I guess you can count the lottery scratch-offs that are a holiday tradition with us as “revealing” what you win or mostly don’t win. Here my mother, who will be 96 the end of January, and M.E. commune at my sister’s on Christmas eve, with Hunter the Dog joining in.
Circling back to revelations almost in your own back yard, here an image of the wetlands boardwalk at Huntley Meadows in nearby Alexandria. My friend Janette and I took a nice long New Year’s Eve walk there, before the weather turned and it snowed (on January 3!). Here’s to more adventures near and far in 2022!

Spring Brings the Cicadas

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Our neighborhood is abuzz, but it’s not from human gossip. It’s from our once-in-seventeeen- years visitors, the cicadas. Yes, they started emerging in earnest after it stopped dipping down into the 40s at night and then, like it usually does in the Washington, DC area, shot instantly into the 90s.

They are dubbed “Brood X” which makes them sound to me sort of like characters in a sci-fy/ noir movie mash-up. Our colleague Jim has written an article for our work web site about why the X, and also many other aspects of cicada folklore and folklife, which is a good read.

While our own backyard doesn’t have nearly the numbers some do, there is still this constant, undulating “zizz-zizz” in the background when you venture outside, and scores (if not billions) of dopey or dead specimens hanging out. Here’s what they look and sound like:

It’s not really that big a nuisance, and actually it’s pretty cool. And, as a result, you too can become a Citizen Scientist by downloading the app “Cicada Safari” and uploading your photos, which get added to a map.

They’ll be gone before we know it. So, we might as well make the most of them. But I will not be trying any in recipes, which we knew were bound to be on offer, right?