Washington DC: The day trip we “forgot” to mention

Me at the Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial

It was a hot day in August when Joseph and I decided to visit our nation’s capitol.

I spent a day planning our itinerary, & then we left early on a Tuesday in Joseph’s black Mazda. As we drove into the city, the tall buildings I was expecting greeted us first, but then, lush, green trees surrounded our car.

Our first stop was the Smithsonian Zoo. To avoid zoo parking costs, we drove to Porter St. NW, thanks to a tip online. However, upon arriving, we found that there was only two hour parking available, which would not be long enough for us to explore the zoo. So instead, we drove around for a few minutes, and we luckily stumbled along free residential parking just a couple blocks away from the zoo. We ate a quick breakfast at the car and then walked the busy DC morning streets to our destination.

We strolled down the brick-laden streets that wound around the animal exhibits, peering in with bated breath and repeatedly turning away, disappointed. The animals were nowhere to be found. 

The air was already growing humid and sweat was brimming on our foreheads in the August morning air as we approached the elephant exhibit.

“What if the elephants are hiding, too?“ Joseph asked. I looked back at him, dread washing over me.

“I don’t want to think about it,” I said. Elephants are my favorite animal.

Luckily, the elephants were not hiding away like the other animals. They lumbered around their pen, grazing and enjoying the warm sun. I gazed at the majestic creatures with the same wonder I always do, looking deep into their amber eyes and seeing the same wisdom and beauty that always encapsulates me.

The Elephant Trails Exhibit at the Smithsonian Zoo

Once I had finally had my fill, we explored the rest of the zoo with much more success. The animals had finally come out. We laughed while we watched the otters play and gazed, fascinated, at the stately cats panting in the hot sun. 

Just before leaving the zoo, Joseph dragged me into the Great Ape House, my least favorite place in the zoo. I have been terrified of monkeys since I was a little girl, and that fear has not subsided in the slightest over the years. I watched in terror as the orangutans swung from branch to branch and the angry gorilla charged the glass.

I don’t think we lasted more than two minutes in that exhibit, but that was plenty of time for me. I would have rather spent more time with the elephants.

We were both famished by the time we left the zoo. While Joseph went to get our car, I stopped by Starbucks to get us two large iced lattes and our special mug that we get from every trip we take. We are currently trying to visit all 50 states, and from each one, we get a Starbucks mug from the “Been There” series. It’s our special little souvenir that represents where we have been, as well as our coffee addiction.

We drove to the National Mall, which proved to be an even trickier place to find parking. When we finally did find a spot, we were both growing hangrier by the minute. We walked to a nearby patch of grass and immediately began picnicking. We both felt much better with food in our stomachs, sipping ice cold coffee. 

Joseph & me at the Thomas Jefferson Memorial

By now, sweat was pouring down our backs. My hair was unkempt, and we were both itchy from the grass. It was quite tempting to jump into the glistening water beside us, or to turn home to take a blissfully cold shower. But after traveling in a car around the state of Colorado for nearly two weeks, we are no strangers to discomfort during our adventures, and we always try to make the most of it. So, as planned, we walked around the entire loop of the National Mall. Good conversation and the incredible statues kept us occupied. 

When we stepped into the Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial, followed shortly by the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial, I couldn’t help but reflect on the current events rocking our country. The Black Lives Matter protests were still at their height. Anger had painted our country into two distinct colors of red and blue. The election was still a couple months away, but already I felt the divisiveness and fear in the hearts of my fellow Americans. 

Our walk took much longer than expected – hours later, we were ready for dinner. We drove to Georgetown, or rather, what we thought was Georgetown, and then drove an additional 45 minutes searching desperately for parking. When we finally found a small spot on a beaten down road, we discovered to our dismay that we were on the wrong side of the city. We were on the right street, but our actual destination was a seven minute drive away. It doesn’t sound like much, but it was not a walkable distance, and it meant we would have to search for parking again.

Me at the Washington Monument

We were exhausted but liberated when we drove into Georgetown and found it was the main street feel we had been searching for. The tall, ornate buildings had been replaced by small, locally-owned shops and restaurants. Luckily, we found parking within a few minutes, and then we searched for the restaurant we wanted to visit. We settled on an American cuisine (I mean, we were visiting the American capitol, after all); we dined at Clydes, a family-owned restaurant that believes in using local and sustainable ingredients in their cooking. The atmosphere was classy, but no doubt American. We sat down at a leather booth, surrounded by ornate woodwork, and listening to 80s rock music playing softly in the background. 

Joseph ordered a burger and some of the best French fries I have ever tasted in my life. I got a salad with grilled salmon. Neither of us were disappointed. The meat and seafood were cooked to a succulent perfection, seasoned so astutely we both couldn’t stop eating. 

We ended our meals satisfied and ready to return home after a long day. On our walk back to the car, we perused a few shops, but we were both too tired to take our time. 

When we arrived home, we each took long, cool showers and then crashed into our beds, ready for a long night’s rest. Visiting our nation’s capitol had been an exciting trip, one we would not soon forget. 

We didn’t tell this story right away, though. Life seemed to only grow crazier, both in our personal lives and in our nation. I was working way too many hours to also be regularly posting on a blog. However, every time I received a free moment and thought about posting this story, I thought it might seem tactless to describe a blissful day in our nation’s capitol with all of the tumultuous events occurring at that very place.

And then, the events of January 6 occurred, when fellow Americans stormed the U.S. Capitol building with guns and bombs, disrupting the peaceful transition of power our country has respected for hundreds of years. It was shocking to watch the videos, just as it was shocking to watch the violence take place during the Black Lives Matter protests last summer. And both times, I realized I sat safe at home while others were hurt. I sat at home while my brothers and sisters were killed. It made me sick to my stomach. 

Me outside the Smithsonian Zoo

So, why am I posting this story now? The timing is no better than it was before. Well, all I can say is, it was a beautiful day, in our nation’s capitol. Despite it being unbearably hot and an exhausting trip, it was a beautiful day spent in the city our nation depends on every day. 

When I think back to the trip now, I think about the moments I spent gazing up at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial. I think about what he fought for, the reason he is remembered in granite and in our hearts today. I wonder what he would think of the divisiveness in our nation now. I wonder what he would say about the protests, the riots, the hurt, and the pain. 

I cannot speak for him, but what I will say is that I think the time has come for us to unify once again. I think it is time to rebuild, and to build it much better this time. I think it is time that we listen to one another instead of yell at one another, that we build each other up instead of tear each other down. I think it’s time for forgiveness, as hard as it may be, and to soften our hardened hearts to the possibility of love and building a better future. 

I don’t think it will be easy. I don’t think it is something I can just write and then it will happen. It’s going to take patience, hard work, and a lot of uncomfortable conversations. I imagine I will have to be in a lot of situations that are far more discomforting that this day in Washington, DC. But I am more than willing, and I hope you are, too. 

Because, as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” 

Joseph and me just a few minutes away from his house – we made it home just as the sun was setting

There has been a shadow of darkness over our nation, and hate has been spewed for generations. I know standing up against this overwhelming cloud of wickedness and corruption takes courage, but I think it also takes a lot of love. And if I want to be remembered for anything in my life, I want it to be for how I loved. I hope my writing is a part of the dim light shining through, and my intention is that whoever is reading this feels only love from my words. 

Let’s drive out the darkness together, one small step at a time, and let’s love the hate out of this nation, one person at a time. It’s what we all have the power to do. It’s what we were born here with the freedom to do. And as Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “The time always right to do what is right.”

P.S. Watch Joseph’s vlog about this trip on his YouTube channel – & don’t forget to subscribe!

Continue Reading

A day at the zoo

Photo creds: Geran de Klerk (Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@gerandeklerk)

It was easy for me to slip into the routine of living my life at home. My parents had never been very adventurous. In all of my childhood, I can probably count on two hands the amount of times I saw their friends, and on one hand the amount of times they actually left the house to go out with someone. I normally found them on their own at home, doing something quiet that brought them pleasure. My brother was a tad more adventurous, but even he found enjoyment in locking himself in his room for days to play video games.

I grew up more extroverted, but when chronic illness hit, I began to spend more time at home. Many of my young friends could not understand what it meant to be unable to go out, even though I looked fine. My symptoms were not visible. It became easier to entertain myself at home rather than deal with the judgment and expectations of others. But I missed going out. I missed seeing the world. There is an entire year that I don’t remember the seasons ever changing because I never took a step out of my house. I regret that year of my life most.

One summer evening, while looking online for something to do to take away the boredom, I came across an interesting national holiday: July 1 is American Zoo Day. I looked to my mother, who was absorbed in her own laptop, and asked her if we could go to the zoo that week.

Her face clouded with confusion. She looked up at me, her eyebrows knit.

“Why do you want to go to the zoo,” she asked. I shrugged.

“I just thought it would be fun.” She watched me for a moment longer, and then she looked back down at her laptop.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“Okay?” I could not believe she had agreed.

“Yes, okay.”

It may sound weird for a nineteen-year-old girl to be so excited about visiting the zoo, but I was more thrilled about this than I had been about graduating high school the year before, when so many thought I would have dropped out. I eagerly began searching online to find the nearest zoo and to plan the event. That week, my mother and I made chicken salad and packed snacks to bring, and early on a Wednesday morning, we left for a day in Washington, D.C. with my friends, Erin and Kristina.

There is something odd about being the most excited person on a trip. While my mother and Erin obliged me and let me lead the way as I skipped down the cobblestone streets of the zoo, Kristina could only look upon me with distaste. I admit, I must have looked childish. My eyes were filled with wonder as I gazed down into the pit where the lions roared at one another. I laughed as I watched the strange squirrel-like creatures tussle. And I cowered in fear when my mother dragged me into the monkey house to see the animals she found most interesting, which happen to be animals that most terrify me. Meanwhile, Kristina sat at the edge of the room, her face engrossed in her cell phone, probably complaining about the lame trip she had been forced to go on.

But when we entered the elephant house, I forgot all about my less-than-enthusiastic companions. Face-to-face with an Asian elephant, her large amber eyes staring into mine, all the other voices around me fell silent. In that moment, I felt more seen than I had in years.

Photo creds: Hu Chen (Unsplash: https://unsplash.com/@huchenme)

I had all but wasted away; my body had grown so thin from disease I was surprised I had not completely disappeared. Friends had forgotten to call for my birthday, and then forgotten to call at all. I had slunk away from the world, holed into myself, trapped myself in a house because it felt warm and protected me from the rest of the world. But this lonely elephant saw me when no one else had, and in that moment, I saw what it truly meant to be caged from the rest of the world.

I have read that elephant mothers are one of the few that stay with their children, in particular, their daughters. While the sons grow up and leave, their daughters join the herd and stay with their mothers for life. It is said the bond between these females is one of the strongest in the animal kingdom. In my life, I have only felt love this strong from one person. I looked back at my companions and found two of them engrossed in their own lives. My mother, however, was gazing at me with pure joy. I knew then why she had agreed to this trip when she normally would never venture beyond the confines of our local county, much less would brave the stressful, crowded streets of Washington, D.C.  My mother loved me with a fierceness that I could never match nor comprehend, and the only way to repay this was to live my life in a way that would make her proud – to never take another day for granted, to never let myself miss out on life, and to never let another day pass in which I felt unloved or invisible.

Continue Reading