Be my president

The image on the back of the nickel

This year saw Presidents Day and Valentines Day combine to form a romantic, three-day Federal holiday weekend. And seeing as this would be the last long holiday weekend before our scheduled departure for Vilnius in early May, plans were made to get out of town, at least for one night. We knew that temperatures were going to be very low on Saturday and Sunday, and that snow was in the forecast for Monday. However, the snow that fell for around an hour on Saturday morning came as a surprise:

However, by the time we left home shortly after ten in the morning, the sun was shining again, though temperatures would remain in the low twenties Fahrenheit for the rest of the day. Our destination was Charlottesville, home to two UNESCO World Heritage Sites associated with Thomas Jefferson - the University of Virginia, founded by the drafter of the Declaration of Independence, and Monticello, the retirement home of the third U.S. president. Getting there took longer than expected, however, as holidaymakers brought traffic on Interstate 95 to a slow crawl. Our GPS gave up on the freeway, and directed us through a long but scenic drive through the central Virginia countryside. It took about 3½ hours to reach Michie Tavern, a Virginia Historic Landmark established in 1784. After the long drive, the first order of business was to have lunch at the Ordinary, where the Southern-style fried chicken was worth the trip:

Appetites sated, we took a self-guided tour of the Tavern, where we learned about travelers' lifestyles in the 18th century and checked out the artifacts and furniture on display from that era. Coming on the heels of her school's recent Colonial Days event, where my daughter portrayed an innkeeper, Amber acted as our tour guide:

Ales of the Revolution, brewed by the Yards Brewery Company of Philadelphia, on sale in the Tavern's gift shop. I bought a six-pack (two of each kind):

From the gift shop to the General Store, housed in the Meadow Run Grist Mill (circa 1797), where I picked up another six-pack, this one of local Virginia craft beers. I also bought a couple of non-alcoholic drinks:

Getting late in the afternoon, and with the temperature stubbornly hovering around 20°F (-7°C), it was time to check in at our hotel, the Holiday Inn in Charlottesville, a short drive down Interstate 64 from Michie Tavern. After a short rest, it was back out into the cold as we drove to the Downtown Mall, a long pedestrian-only shopping street lined with boutiques, cafes and restaurants catering to the city's student population. Despite all those years living in and traveling around Japan, it had never occurred to me to combine two great treats in one dining establishment:

We didn't eat there, but perhaps the hipsters are on to something here. Then again, the restaurant where we did choose to dine, Himalayan Fusion, another UVa hipster favorite, was a disappointment. The Nepalese-style curry wasn't bad, but service was slow and it took a long time for our dishes to arrive at our table. And the Tibetan offerings on the menu were slim pickings, with no yak butter tea. Still, the Downtown Mall looks like an interesting place to hang out, provided the weather is warmer than it was on Saturday evening:

Sunday was bright and sunny...and cold. It was only 16°F (-9°C) when we arrived at Monticello, Jefferson's primary plantation home, for our tour of the house (we were actually too late for our reserved 10:15 tour, but the ticket clerk merely moved us to the next one at 10:45, giving us a chance to warm ourselves in the museum while we waited for the shuttle to transport us up the hill to the house). As expected from someone of Jefferson's talents, Monticello is a beautiful structure, and the 40-minute tour allowed to see the Hall, the book room where Jefferson kept his 6700-volume library, his study and bedchamber, the family parlor, the dining and tea rooms, and the North Octagonal Room, which was frequently occupied by Jefferson's good friend and neighbor, James Madison (the fourth president), and his wife Dolly. Unfortunately, photography wasn't allowed inside, though visitors are free to take pictures on the grounds of Monticello:

Photography is also permitted in the "dependencies", the service rooms which ran under the main building, making them easily accessible while simultaneously invisible from the public spaces of the house:

Conservatives may decry "political correctness", but in this day and age the foundation that manages Monticello doesn't hide the fact that the man who wrote that all men were equal was himself a slave-owner who fathered several children with one of his "possessions" (Sally Hemings). On the grounds are several reconstructions of the tiny shacks that housed the enslaved families. Even with their built-in fireplaces, I can't imagine how cold it must have been on a bitterly frigid day like ours (though on February 14, 1796 Jefferson recorded the temperature at Monticello as being a relatively balmy 42°F/6°C). The views on a clear day were no doubt of cold comfort (rim shot) to the people living there:

From the main building, we braved the chill and walked twenty minutes downhill back to the visitors center, stopping to visit Jefferson's grave. Out of all his accomplishments, Jefferson wanted to be remembered most of all for being the "author of the Declaration of American Independence,  of the Statute of Virginia for Religious Freedom and the father of the University of Virginia":

My daughter enjoyed the hands-on exhibits at the Discovery Center, including the type of double-pen writing instrument that Jefferson used to make copies of everything he wrote:

Enjoying a glass of Monticello Reserve Ale at the onsite cafe. I got to keep the glass, too:

The temperature had warmed to 27°F (-3°C) in the middle of the afternoon as we left Monticello. Our route took us on the same rural roads we had driven on the previous day, past horse farms and wineries:

Though we had been immersing ourselves in the history of Colonial America, this particular stretch of Virginia was the site of several bloody battles during the Civil War, and the roads we drove on are lined with white historical markers noting particular actions that occurred at those spots. One place where we stopped for a quick look was associated with the Battle of the Wilderness, one of the nastiest battles of the conflict. I would've liked to have walked on the two-mile (3.2 kilometers) trail that looped around that particular section of battlefield, but it was already close to four in the afternoon:

One noticeable feature of Civil War battlefield memorials is how so much carnage took place in what would normally have been places of peace and tranquility:

Further down the road we stopped in at the Chancellorsville Battlefield Visitor Center, with informative displays on the bloody battles that took place at Chancellorsville, the Wilderness and Spotsylvania: 

The visitors center is located at the site where the Confederate General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson was shot and mortally wounded by his own men. It's an unpleasant aspect of living in Virginia that many places like schools and streets are named after men of the South such as Jackson, Lee, Stuart etc. They may have been brilliant military leaders, but the cause they were fighting for was morally reprehensible, and the sooner their names are removed and banished to the dustbins of history, the better American society will be (one especially nauseating sight I witnessed on I-95 on the drive to and from Charlottesville was that of a large Confederate flag flying next to the freeway):

With Sunday being the middle of the three-day weekend, we were back in Falls Church by six o'clock. And a good thing, too, as today (Monday) the snow fell as predicted, with an accumulation in our area of around six inches (15 centimeters). Along with the 22°F (-6°C) temperatures, it was a good day to stay indoors...:

...though the temptation to go outside proved too strong to resist, especially with a cemetery nearby:

Lion guardian in the snow at Eden Center:

Our car covered in snow, though with not as much dumped on it as by the big snowstorm several weeks ago. Heavy rain is in the forecast for tomorrow, which might make the streets icily dangerous but should clean up the car:

Amber realized too late the deadly accuracy of her father's snowball-throwing arm:

My wife returns from a shopping excursion to the Asian supermarket next door:

 

  

Welcoming in the Year of the Vulture

My daughter the innkeeper. And, apparently, a slave-owner. Amber's school held a "Colonial Days" event, and all the fourth-graders were assigned various roles to play. According to her job description, innkeepers utilized slaves for cooking and cleaning (though none were portrayed by any of the students). When I asked her why she owned human beings, my daughter replied "the people during those days were English." 

The Year of the Monkey is almost upon us, with today (Saturday) being the penultimate day of the Year of the Goat. Tomorrow will be Lunar New Year's Eve, a time in which families across the Chinese-speaking world get together for the year-end meal. In China, this time of the year can be one of incredible chaos; while Taiwan isn't quite as bad, the island usually sees gridlocked freeways, overcrowded tourist sights and hotel rooms and restaurants with jacked-up prices and rates. Here in the U.S., it's business as usual, with celebrations usually limited to Chinatowns (though the holiday is also an important time in Korea and Vietnam; we live next door to a Vietnamese shopping center that will celebrating Tet). Speaking of Taiwan, I was amused to read comments on Facebook from friends and acquaintances there on a recent cold spell the island was having a couple of weeks ago. While temperatures did drop to almost freezing in Taipei 台北, and many places received a rare light dusting of snow, all this occurred around the same time we here in the Washington, D.C. area had around two feet (60 centimeters) of snow dumped on us. True, with their concrete walls, tiled floors and complete lack of insulation, Taiwanese apartments can feel almost as cold on the inside as the weather is on the outside (and on a serious note, Taiwanese media reported up to 85 deaths from hypothermia and cardiac arrest). Still, I couldn't help but feel that some Westerners, at least, seem to get softer with each year they stay on the island. 

When we were living in Taiwan, we coped with the short winter season by wearing sweaters indoors, and relying on space heaters to warm up the rooms (my wife even insisted we bring our kerosene heater with us when we moved to Taichung 台中 from Yokkaichi 四日市). In fact, compared to Japan, Taiwanese homes in winter might just be more bearable. Japanese homes (with the exception of those in Hokkaidō 北海道) also tend not to be insulated, and winters in Japan are a lot colder, and for a much longer period of time, than in Taiwan. When I lived in Tōkyō 東京, I relied on space heaters, electric blankets and, eventually, wall-mounted air conditioners with heating functions in an effort to keep warm. But even with these, plus kerosene heaters, kotatsu 炬燵 and extra covers for the futon 布団, those wooden (and ferroconcrete) homes could still be very cold and drafty. I remember visiting a 17th-century wooden home in the city of Takayama 高山, located in the Japanese Alps 日本アルプス; even though I was wearing thick socks, it was still painful to walk across the frozen tatami mats 畳. It's those kinds of memories that make me appreciate the central heating system we have in our current residence. 

Two weeks after Snowzilla, I went hiking today in the Wildcat Mountain Natural Area in Warrenton, Virginia, 39 miles (63 kilometers) from our home in Falls Church. It was 37°F (2.8°C) as I started walking from my parked car and ascended 100 yards (91 meters) up a narrow, steep trail. My guidebook describes the climb as being "difficult", but I found it to be pretty easy; no boasting, as I've let myself get out of shape since we went to Shanghai. I'm assuming that our obese society has necessitated the need to re-evaluate what defines "difficulty":

The trail is maintained by The Nature Conservancy, which has placed informative signs along the path:

A long stone wall marks the top of the ridge, and a 420-foot (128 meters) gain in elevation:

A lot of the snow on England Mountain has already melted, though plenty of the white stuff still remains:

Stone walls delineate where hikers can and can't go, as England Mountain (where the trail is located) stands on private property:

The trail is muddy and wet in places due to snow melting, and I had to cross a number of babbling brooks this morning. It was at this point pictured below that I was passed by another hiker and her two dogs, who started growling at me. According to the woman, it was because I was wearing a hat. Apparently, American dogs are not sure what to do when encountering headgear or umbrellas (the latter once given to me as an excuse by an embarrassed dog owner when I was hiking on a rainy day):

A rare touch of green (admittedly enhanced after being uploaded) in the otherwise stark winter scenery:

The sound of rushing water and wind blowing through trees is Nature's way of serving New Age musicians:

The highlight of the hike today is the Smith House, which was abandoned about fifty years ago but is still in remarkably good condition. Before reaching the house, I passed by the Spring House, where pond ice or flowing water was used to prevent dairy products, fruit and meat from spoiling:

The interior of the Smith House, photographed from the outside (I didn't try to enter what is still private property):

Behind the Smith House is a chimney and fireplace, all that is left of a 19th-century homestead:

Selfie time outside the Smith House:

While I was walking around the property, a pair of Black Vultures emerged from one of the upstairs rooms. One vulture flew onto a nearby branch, while the other one took up its post atop the chimney on the roof:

Exterior of the Smith House. You can see the pair of Black Vultures in the second shot:

Back on the trail and passing by the reservoir that once served the Smith House. My guidebook describes a "dry bed", but obviously it isn't, at least not after the recent snowstorm:

This section of the trail is still covered in snow, though the snow pack here is hard, making it easy to walk on, and shallow. I thank the Nature Conservancy for the green-and-yellow markers it put on the trees, enabling hikers to pick out the trail despite the snow cover. This was also the only section of the hike where it was cold enough to have to put on gloves: 

Another bit of color. The trail must be nice in autumn:

The snow eventually gives way to ice. On the drive to Wildcat Mountain Natural Area, after exiting I-66 and turning onto Carters Run Road, I encountered a couple of large patches of ice on the road that forced me to slow down considerably so as not to skid off the road:

Back to the first section of stone wall encountered at the top of the ridge, and signifying the end of the loop trail. From here it was back down the "difficult" section and then to my car parked along England Mountain Driveway:

Some vital statistics for the last hike of the Year of the Goat include a distance of 3.4 miles (5.5 kilometers) covered on foot; an elevation gain of 840 feet (256 meters); and a total walking time of just over two hours. Who knows where my feet will take me next as the Monkey awaits.

POSTSCRIPT: This Taiwanese expat family (well, two-thirds of it, anyway) celebrated the coming of the (Lunar) New Year by having dinner at Peter Chang in Arlington on Super Bowl Sunday (that spectacle being the reason why the streets were relatively deserted tonight). Back home afterward, my daughter received her treasured hóng​bāo 紅包:

Xīn​nián​kuài​lè 新年快樂

Gōng​xǐ​fā​cái 恭喜發財