Walking into the past

A different sort of bloom

All attention this weekend is no doubt focused on Washington, D.C.'s cherry blossoms, which are at the peak of their bloom. On a day as sunny and warm as yesterday (Saturday), many people made plans to visit the Tidal Basin to see the Somei-Yoshino ソメイヨシノ trees at their finest, and it wasn't surprising to see bumper-to-bumper traffic in the morning on Interstate 66 going into Washington. I, however, was headed in a different direction, having already seen the blossoms earlier in the week. My destination was Little Bennett Regional Park in Clarksburg, Maryland, a thirty-minute drive from my apartment complex. Though far from a challenging workout (I hesitate to even call it a "hike" as there was only one section that had any elevation or steepness to it), it felt good to be in the outdoors again, especially now that spring has arrived.

From the parking lot, a flat and wide trail led to an old schoolhouse named after one Luther King, who operated a whiskey distillery in the region. The building served as a classroom between 1893 and 1935:

From the schoolhouse, the walk proper commenced. Much of the initial route ran parallel to the clear waters of Little Bennett Creek:

Ignoring the yellow warning tape strung between two trees, I trespassed walked onto the Beaver Valley Trail, through a marshy area made wet by beaver activity and across a wooden bridge cross-crossed with more Do Not Cross tape. This soon led to the Mound Builder Trail and the following sign:

The nests referenced in the sign are built up in order to receive sunlight, which serves as incubation for the ants' larvae. There were a number of visible mounds along this trail, all of them teeming with ant activity, but proving difficult to photograph:

Crossing that meadow when I came to it:

A pine grove of dead trees would look fascinatingly eerie on a foggy morning, but in the bright afternoon sunshine, they appeared far from menacing. They were also alive with bird sounds, including one very active woodpecker hammering away at a trunk:

Most of the trails I used this afternoon were relatively flat:

Water on one side, shale boulders on the other:

Another historical relic. As the sign explains, the original mill was in operation between 1783 and 1918, when it was destroyed in a fire. A new building was quickly put up in its place and now serves as an arts center:

The adjacent miller's residence is still privately-owned and not open to visitors:

Notice anything missing in the below photo of Little Bennett Creek? How about a way to get across? No bridge or rocks acting as stepping stones meant the only way was to ford it on foot. The water wasn't deep but did go up to my ankles, resulting in a soggy walk the rest of the way back to the car:

It took a little less than three hours to cover 6.9 miles (11.1 kilometers):

The girls are due back from Taiwan this Tuesday, bringing an end to my temporary bachelorhood, a state of affairs I'll be glad to see pass. 

Sakura Clinic

Learning the Russian language can be demanding at times. I've seen the doctor recently about heartburn and gastrointestinal discomfort, which she said is most likely related to the stress that comes from studying. Stress was also given as the reason as for why I've been feeling lethargic lately, for which she prescribed a certain kind of medication that I''m somewhat apprehensive about using over a long period of time. The kitchen counter in our apartment now resembles a mini-pharmacy, with all the different medicines and supplements that I've been prescribed or recommended to take. The upside to this is that I now have a valid(-sounding) excuse reason for when I won't be able to reach the required level of Russian proficiency, a sort of get-out-of-FSI-and-go-to-your-next-assignment-at once card. 

If the above photo of my daughter and wife looks as if were taken in an airport, there's a good reason: it was. The girls left last Saturday on a trip back to Taiwan, taking advantage of Amber's spring break. They'll be there for about nine days, and leaving me here all alone with my Russian textbooks. I would've liked to have gone back to Formosa as well, but language students are not permitted to take regular leave during training. It's a good opportunity for Amber and Pamela to see the Taiwanese side of the family before we go to Eastern Europe, but at this point in my life the "freedom" that comes from "being single again" is not something to relish. 

But with spring upon this region, it's possible to set aside the emotional and physical challenges, and get out and enjoy the sights, smells and sounds of the new season. Taking advantage of today being an administrative day (meaning I only had two classes in the morning, leaving the rest of the afternoon free; this happens twice a month), and the weather being sunny and warm, I went into the District to see Washington's famed cherry blossoms. After lunch I boarded the shuttle that leaves from the Foreign Service Institute in Arlington, and rode the bus to the main State Department building in Foggy Bottom. From the Harry S. Truman Building, I walked toward the Tidal Basin, pausing for a moment to watch kids clambering on the Albert Einstein Memorial outside the National Academy of Sciences:

My route also took me past the Korean War Veterans Memorial, where it appeared that some South Korean military officers were presenting a wreath:

The cherry trees around the Tidal Basin haven't reached their peak bloom yet, but they were a lot more colorful this afternoon compared to our visit there a week-and-a-half ago. The blossoms and good weather brought out a lot of visitors for a weekday afternoon, and I joined the throngs as I made my way around the water, going from the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial and past the Jefferson Memorial, before moving off in the direction of the Smithsonian Metro station. When in Rome, do as the tourists, and so I snapped a few pictures:

In Japan, the blooming of the cherry blossoms is an excuse occasion for celebration, a time to join family, friends or coworkers under the trees, and consume mass quantities of food and alcohol. In the U.S., "keep off the grass" signs and regulations on drinking alcoholic beverages in public places make for a more sedate outing. 

Needless to say, I miss 花見. 

The girls will be back next Tuesday. Before then, they'll probably have their own sakura-viewing excursion later this week, when they're planning to go on a day trip with family members to Alishan 阿里山, Taiwan's premier (and therefore horrendously crowded) cherry blossom spot. 

Just a bit too early...

After one of the strangest winters I've personally experienced (higher-than-normal temperatures, followed by one of the biggest snowstorms in local records, followed again by record high temps), spring is definitely almost here in the Washington, D.C. area. And nothing better serves as a harbinger of the season in this area than the cherry blossom 桜, that overused cliche describing all things Japanese, and the blooming flowers that turn the Tidal Basin into an explosion of pink-and-white brilliance for one brief, glorious period every late March or early April. This year's National Cherry Blossom Festival is scheduled to run from March 20 to April 17. Meanwhile, the National Park Service is predicting the peak bloom for between the 18th and the 23rd of March. For my wife, however, those dates are too far away. For one thing, she and my daughter will be in Taiwan during Amber's spring break from school, visiting family before our planned departure for Lithuania later this spring, and she's afraid that she'll miss the best of the show in D.C. For another, there are cherry trees in our area that are already blooming:

And so it came to pass yesterday (Saturday) that we drove to the Tidal Basin to see if the flowers had started blossoming there. The answer was no, they haven't. The lack of people and traffic, not to mention the number of empty parking spaces, were the first indicator that we were too early. The lack of flowers on the cherry trees surrounding the Tidal Basin was the second. It seems that the cherry trees in our neighborhood are of a different variety than Washington's celebrated Yoshino cherry ソメイヨシノ (染井吉野), which explains why they've been quicker out the gate when it comes time to bloom. Such is the fleeting nature of existence:

Nevertheless, sakura or not, it was still a nice, leisurely walk around the Tidal Basin, as we made our past the Jefferson Memorial. A continuous stream of airplanes flew overhead on their way into Reagan National Airport:

The Somei-Yoshino flowers may not have been ready yesterday, but it wasn't all gray on Saturday:

George Mason is a local hero, with schools, streets and a university in these parts named after him. Outside of Virginia, the father of the Bill of Rights tends to be overlooked when people think about Founding Fathers. Relatively few of the many visitors to the Jefferson Memorial make their way over to the nearby memorial to Mason, where the "reluctant statesman" sits looking up from reading the works of Plato, with books by Locke and Rousseau lying next to him:

Speaking of Jefferson, glimpses of his bronze statue standing under the dome could be had as we walked along the water:

The Franklin Delano Roosevelt Memorial has its detractors, namely over its depiction (or lack thereof) of the 32nd president's disability. He is shown seated in an ordinary chair, and it was only after advocates complained that casters were added to the back, thus making it a "symbolic wheelchair":

The memorial is a series of open plazas, with some of FDR's famous (and not-so-well known) quotes engraved on many of the walls:

The last of the memorials dotted around the Tidal Basin is the one dedicated to Martin Luther King, Jr., which has seen its share of controversy: 

As we completed our loop, reminders of from where the cherry blossoms originated:

One of the great things about Washington, D.C. is that you never get tired of its many landmarks, no matter how many times you may have seen them (even when you were too early for the cherry blossoms). However, one monument that Pamela hadn't yet seen is the Iwo Jima Memorial. So after completing our walk around the Tidal Basin (and before having lunch), we made the short drive across the Potomac and past the Pentagon to show her the Marines raising the flag atop Mount Suribachi 擂鉢山. Having grown up and been educated in Taiwan, it shouldn't have been surprising that my wife has never seen the iconic 1945 photograph by Joe Rosenthal:

The rest of our weekend has been spent doing things mundane (visiting a crowded outlet shopping mall in one of D.C.'s Virginian suburbs) and routine (my daughter has a class on reading and writing traditional Chinese characters every Sunday afternoon at...wait for it...George Mason High School). As for the lack of Yoshino cherry blossoms, none of us were disappointed. The girls are planning to visit Alishan 阿里山, Taiwan's premier sakura spot, while I might venture down to the Tidal Basin again if I have a free weekday afternoon. Even if I don't make it to see D.C.'s blossoms, I already have a lot of 花見 memories and recollections from when I lived in Japan. And that is something that tsars and tsarinas trying to teach me Russian can never take away from me.

The Russian Front

These days there are times when I feel like a German soldier trapped in the rubble of Stalingrad, with nowhere to run as the Red Army slowly tightens the noose. Studying Russian has become an exercise in frustration, as it feels as if little progress has been made since the start of the new year, not just stagnating but maybe even regressing. I'm the first to admit the desire and motivation have been lagging in recent weeks, but part of the problem has also been the teaching approach of my most recent instructor. She isn't a bad teacher; far from it, in fact, as she has demonstrable skills and an enthusiastic approach to teaching the language to non-speakers. It's just that her method, with its focus on writing, memorizing and reciting short presentations on various topics such as the American family or the presidential election (which admittedly is part of the curriculum), isn't producing the desired results for a student like myself, who needs drilling and repetition of grammar points and sentence structures (another way of saying I lack the imagination ability at this stage to think for myself in Russian). Unfortunately, the current instructor wasn't devoting as much time as I would've liked to textbook exercises and reviews of workbook assignments. I was, therefore, looking forward to the next scheduled rotation of teachers and the opportunity to possibly reunite with an earlier instructor under whom I had made significant progress in my language studies.

Well, the rotation has come and gone, and I still have the same teacher. For my classmate likes her - mainly because, as he puts it, he had put a lot of time and effort into "train(ing) her". When he realized that another instructor rotation was looming on the horizon, he went to the language training supervisors and lobbied hard to keep her in our classroom. And so no changes were made...because not one person in the Russian section bothered to ask me what I thought about the situation. My belated protests were met with genuine surprise by the supervisors, who admitted they just assumed my classmate was speaking for me. The requisite apologies were proffered and promises were made for the when the next rotation comes around, but at this point I could be forgiven for not believing anything anyone says to me anymore. 

All of this happened not long after being told (not advised) by the person supposedly responsible for my "career development" on how I had better find a "Chinese-speaking doctor" ("there are many in this area") in order that my spouse could take my daughter to be an evaluated by an orthodontist (presumably one fluent in Mandarin), and so leave my time free to concentrate on Russian. I really wanted to tell this person what they could do with their advice, particularly as how we go about choosing physicians for our family is of no concern of any bureaucrat, but a career development officer can easily turn into a career destruction officer, so I kept my mouth shut (and have resolved to avoid any future interactions with this person, who does seem like the vindictive type. And, no, I'm not going to search for doctors who speak Chinese - I'll stick with the ones we've been seeing up to now). At least I wasn't lectured on what matters are considered important "in our Anglo-Saxon culture", which happened recently to a colleague of mine (by the same person, of course).

Shanghai was a great first post, and the feedback I've been getting from my future colleagues at my next post (Vilnius) also augur well. Unfortunately, it's all the excrement that goes on between assignments, especially the lack of communication, that makes one wonder if this is the right career...

...but as long as there are daughters and pandas, it's worth putting up with the dementors in Washington until we can get overseas again. Taking Amber to the National Zoological Park this afternoon (our third visit) proved to be very therapeutic, even if  Bei Bei was asleep and could only be seen on Pandacam:

Several other pandas were on display today, though the first one we saw was pacing back and forth along the wall at the back of its enclosure, a sign the poor animal was feeling stressed:

It's neighbor, on the other hand, seemed much more content with its lot in life:

Two minutes and four seconds of a giant panda who couldn't give a toss, as filmed by my daughter:

Another panda, this one hanging out indoors, also had the right attitude:

It wasn't all pandas this afternoon. The elephant house was a new addition since our last visit:

"What, and get out of show business?!":

At the Small Mammal House, a shy baby armadillo refuses to greet its admirers:

Amber took this picture of baby mongooses (and, yes, I checked on the plural form):

My daughter chills with an orangutan on a chilly day:

Feeding time for the fish in the Amazonia Exhibit:

Amber noticed that this creature was protecting its eggs:

This colorful bird had a fetish for loosening shoelaces:

Going home from the zoo turned into a minor ordeal as it took more than ninety minutes on D.C.'s beleaguered Metro system for the two of us to get back, on a trip that should have taken no more than half that amount of time. The already scheduled 20-minute intervals between Orange Line trains on the weekend (due to maintenance work) turned into an indefinite wait at Metro Center station when it was announced (though could barely be heard over the PA) that there was an "emergency" at the next station, McPherson Square (which turned out to be an "unauthorized person on the tracks" there). I've ridden on subways or similar public transportation systems in San Francisco, New York, Chicago, London, Hong Kong, Seoul, Taipei 台北, Shanghai, Beijing, Guangzhou and in several cities in Japan (Tōkyō 東京, Sapporo 札幌, Nagoya 名古屋, Kyōto 京都, Ōsaka 大阪 and Fukuoka 福岡), but the Metro in Washington has been the worst of them, by far. True, it does get people from point A to point B (eventually), and when the system is functioning as it should, it's an effective way to reach most of the points of interest in the District of Columbia. And Saturday's person-on-the-track incident may not have been Metro's fault - even a subway system has efficiently-run as Tokyo's sometimes is brought to a halt due to the occasional suicide jumper or act of god (earthquakes, typhoons etc.). But the Metro has a long, sad track record of delays and interrupted service, and is a source of justified grumbling for residents in this area.

A couple of inches of snow fell overnight Wednesday and on Thursday morning. With temperatures expected to reach into the sixties and seventies Fahrenheit next week, this may have been winter's last gasp. Then again, it's been a strange season...: