Every day, when the city settles into the evening calm, the sights of Washington DC at night take on a different persona. Bright lights around the city’s famous landmarks power on, creating a magnificent glowing aura around it. Even if you had traipsed around the city snapping shots of yourself in front of memorials and monuments earlier in the day, it’s worth the trip to come back out at night and see them again in a, well — different light. Continue reading
The hallway leading to the Peacock Room in the Freer Gallery is dimly lit, just enough for you to see where you’re heading. This only heightens the anticipation of walking into a magnificent room first built in 1800s London, displayed in a museum, then sold to a 1900s Detroit homeowner before being gifted to the Gallery around 1919. On shutters open (third) Thursdays each month, visitors can view and enjoy the Peacock Room in the Freer Gallery, featuring artwork by American artist James McNeill Whistler. Those who saunter into the Peacock Room often speak in hushed tones, eyes full of curiosity as they wander about the room. For good reason. Continue reading
Riding into the city on the morning of Inauguration Day, I could tell which of my fellow Red Line passengers were headed in to join the celebrations — the ones who were dressed like they were going on a ski trip. Clad in wool hats, thick gloves, heavy shoes, and North Face jackets, they were also armed with maps, bottled water, additional blankets and consumer friendly DSLR cameras. Snippets of chatter overheard were about getting to the vast lawns of the 146-acred National Mall as quickly as they could. “We’re almost there, get your Metro cards out. Don’t be fumblin’ for em at the turnstile,” said one mother to her two kids. “Metro Center is gonna be slammed. Let’s get out at Farragut North. The lines won’t be as long,” said a bearded man in a black furry hat to his friends. Continue reading
For a thunderstorm that lasted barely an hour and half, last Friday’s derecho sure caused a lot of havoc in the D.C. region. Most people were quite likely enjoying their Friday evenings like they always do. I was at home, getting ready for a trip the next day, when the derecho hit D.C. The sound of gushing winds prompted me to leave my packing and look out the window.
Wish I hadn’t, because I immediately felt like I was on a ship, riding angry waves and beating back relentless wind and torrential rain. Trees were swaying wildly, making disconcerting crackle sounds as they went. On Rockville Pike, cars were going slowly; a couple of drivers had stopped on the side of the road, unsure of how to navigate in the storm. I hadn’t paid attention to news about the weather lately and thought that we were being hit by a hurricane. I panicked.