Sic semper tyrannis

You might not recognize the building pictured above, but the name should be familiar. Ford's Theatre, of course, was the place where John Wilkes Booth shot Abraham Lincoln in the back of the head on the evening of April 14, 1865, as the president and his wife, Mary Todd Lincoln, were watching a performance of Our American Cousin. Now a National Historic Site, the renovated and restored theater is well worth a visit should you find yourself in Washington, D.C. 

After picking up your (free) tickets inside, you proceed first to the museum area, the displays of which cover Lincoln's time in office beginning with his first term as president in early 1861, and running up to the assassination. "An Eerie Encounter" describes how Lincoln witnessed his future-killer perform onstage at Ford's Theatre one evening in November 1863:

Booth was fervently pro-Southern, making no attempt among his immediate associates to conceal his growing hatred of Lincoln. He hinted as much that evening, glancing up at the presidential box even as he delivered some of the play's most threatening lines.

"He looks as if he meant that for you", one of the presidential party remarked to Lincoln.

"He does look pretty sharp at me, doesn't he?" conceded Lincoln.

The museum has a number of items used by Booth and his cohorts in their assassination plot. Above is the boot Booth wore when he shot the president, and then broke his leg jumping onto the stage from the presidential box, before running (hobbling?) out the back door of the theater, where a horse was waiting for him. The hole in the boot was made by Samuel Mudd, the doctor who treated Booth. Mudd, who may or may not have known about the plot, was sentenced to life in prison but was later pardoned for his role in treating a yellow fever outbreak at the prison where he was serving his sentence.

The actual Philadelphia Derringer single-shot pistol Booth used to shoot Lincoln

The lighting made photography difficult, but we could see the clothes Lincoln was wearing that fateful evening, the door to the presidential box and the bloodstained pillow from the bed where Lincoln died the following morning (April 15) at 7:22 am.

The Presidential Box at Ford's Theatre. Lincoln sat in the rocking chair in the front of the picture, while his wife sat next to him. The other occupants in the box that evening were Army Major Henry Rathbone and his fiancée (and later wife) Clara Harris. Rathbone was stabbed in his left arm by Booth after Lincoln had been shot (Rathbone survived, but his life took a very tragic turn years later).

Inside Ford's Theatre, with Lincoln's booth pictured on the right

My daughter inside Ford's Theatre

This guide not only graciously agreed to have her photo taken with my wife and my daughter, but she also politely answered the stupid question I posed to her - namely, where did the theatergoers go when they had to heed the call of nature? The answer was that men could use the privy at a saloon adjacent to the theater, but women had no recourse but to make sure they didn't eat or drink anything before going out to an evening at the theater. She also told me that this was the first question she asked when took this job!

Once done at Ford's Theatre, you make your way across the street to the Petersen House. It was to this tailor's house that Lincoln was carried after being shot, and where he died the following morning.

In this bedroom, Secretary of War (Edwin) Stanton held several cabinet meetings, interviewed several witnesses, and ordered the pursuit of the assassins. 

The bedroom where Lincoln died (the original bed is in a history museum in Chicago). Amber reads a description of the room and what occurred within, with her dad providing suitably ghostly accompaniment. 

The rest of the Petersen House includes further museum displays, going over the capture and killing of Booth, and the trials and executions/imprisonments of his co-conspirators. Other exhibits cover Lincoln's place in culture and history, both here in the United States and abroad. The sign at the top explains how Sun Yat-sen 孫中山 ripped off...er, was influenced by Lincoln's Gettysburg Address when he came up with his "Three Principles of the People" 三民主義. The bottom photo is of a circular from an annual Abraham Lincoln essay contest that started in Japan in 1926 (following similar contests in the U.S. in preceding years).

The comment left by my daughter as we finished our tour of the Ford's Theatre National Historic Site.

After our visit, we walked the several blocks over to Washington's pathetically poor and virtually non-existent Chinatown to have lunch. In an unexpected development, we ended up eating at a cafe located across the street from the site of Mary Surratt's boarding house, where Booth and his accomplices hatched their plot to kill Lincoln. The original building is now the home of the Wok n Roll Restaurant. You can't make this shit up. :-)

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Easing one's mind

I'm wondering if the stress of having to constantly study Mandarin Chinese is starting to take a toll on me. Progress is slower than I'd like, and the frustration over the facts that I still can't make out what my teachers are saying to me and my inability to put my English-composed thoughts into coherent Chinese sentences would be leading to severe hair loss, were it not already too late. Despite all the effort and all the studying, I'm not much confident that I'll be able to pass the final exam in April (which should've been at the beginning of February, but that's another ego-deflating story).

Which I why I look forward to the bi-weekly "Admin Days", those free afternoons where we're supposed to take care of various administrative matters. If there's nothing to see to, then ideally we have more time to go to the language lab or get ahead on the homework. For me, however, these times are a welcome opportunity to get away from FSI, the 老师 (nothing personal) and the language, and do something for myself. In the past, I used this time to visit the Holocaust and Spy museums. Today, it was the turn of The Phillips Collection in the Dupont Circle/Embassy Row area of Washington, D.C. to receive my patronage (lucky it).

For those of you who don't know (and I didn't before moving to this area), The Phillips Collection is "America's first museum of modern art". Founded by Duncan Phillips in 1921, eight years before MOMA opened in New York, the museum serves to showcase Phillips' extensive and diverse collection. There are 2400 works of art in total, though not all of them are on display, so the collection is rotated. Furthermore, the arrangement is rather loose, meaning one room might have some Picassos, while next door is some photography, and further on a video representation. In short, you have to pay attention. The Phillips Collection is most noted for its French Impressionism and other 19th-century European works, but you can also see late 19th/early 20th-century American art, as well as more modern pieces. If you visit on a weekday and there are no special exhibitions (as was the case today), admission is by donation (free, if you're a miserly tightwad). And non-flash photography is allowed for the permanent collection, so what follows are a few pics of my therapeutic visit this afternoon:

The Phillips Collection is housed in a beautiful brownstone building

The Rothko Room has Abstract Expressionist paintings from the 1950's by Mark Rothko

The museum's most famous painting is probably Renoir's The Luncheon of the Boating Party

El Greco's The Repentant St. Peter is perhaps the oldest work in the collection, dating between 1600-1605.

I forgot the name of this video installation, but it did have a hypnotizing effect on me in that small room. Check it out for yourself:

Naked Nixon, a sculpture by the famous political cartoonist Pat Oliphant

One nice thing about housing an art collection in a beautiful old home is seeing the pieces displayed around the many fireplaces.

The Terrace by Pierre Bonnard 

Dancers at the Bar (I can't remember the French), by Degas...of course

My favorite: Van Gogh's Road Menders

A scene I wish I could replicate in my own (future) home: A Matisse (Studio, Quai St-Michel), framed by a couple of Picassos: Bullfight on the left, and Reclining Figure on the right.

After my visit to The Phillips Collection, it was still relatively early in the afternoon, so I walked over to the nearby Anderson House (across the road from the Indian embassy and the statue of Mahatma Gandhi). The winter residence of former ambassador to Belgium and Japan Larz Anderson, it's a beautiful mansion now under the management of the Society of the Cincinnati, which sounds like a sinister Dan Brown-type of order, but is actually an old patriotic organization established in 1783. Free tours of the house are offered (donations welcome), and I was able to join one halfway-through:

The building was erected between 1902 and 1905. A statue of George Washington, first president-general of the Society of the Cincinnati, stands out front.

Photography was permitted, but getting good pictures wasn't easy due to the dark interiors...and my poor skills.

A samurai sword 刀 presented to Larz Anderson by the Emperor Taishō 大正天皇 (Yoshihito 嘉仁) of Japan. Although he served there for only ten weeks, Anderson amassed an impressive collection of Japanese objets d'art.

Anderson's ambassadorial uniform. Yes, American diplomats wore formal uniforms when the occasion dictated, though the practice was thankfully ended by Franklin D. Roosevelt.

The ballroom has some Japanese screen paintings on its walls. Chamber-music recitals are frequently held here.

A typically ornate dining room. Anderson had a thing for collecting European tapestries, as they can found hanging all over the house. Unbelievably, Anderson and his wife only stayed in the mansion one month out of every year (November).

From one of the bedrooms (which can be reserved by Society members) there is a great view across the street to the exclusive Cosmos Club, the Beaux-Arts style of its home dating back to 1901.

The garden has shrunk in size over the years, but a graceful Buddha still watches over a quiet pool in the back.

By George

On this absolutely beautiful and warm Sunday winter afternoon, on a day in which the Seattle Seahawks of Washington state are playing the District of Columbia's Washington Redskins in an NFC playoff game, these transplanted Washingtonians (well, not really, but it does suit me for tax purposes to claim Bremerton, WA as my legal residence) now residing in the greater Washington, D.C. metro area to visit the home of this nation's first president and Revolutionary war hero, George Washington.

OK, the above paragraph tries much too hard. Let's just say that today we made the short drive (about 45 minutes) to Mount Vernon, Washington's historic plantation that he and his wife Martha called home for forty years. My wife was suitably impressed with what life was like for an 18th century member of the landed gentry. I don't know what she thought of the General's use of slave labor, or of how the ideals of the American Revolution clashed with the institution of slavery, but at least Washington did the right thing upon his death - in his will, he freed all of the slaves that he owned. Political correctness aside, Washington was an extraordinary individual who played a key role in the events leading to the establishment of the United States as an independent country, and Mount Vernon deserves to be on the itinerary of all visitors to this nation's capital - there were certainly a lot of Chinese there when we visited today!

My daughter poses in front of the mansion while we were in line to join a tour of the house. The interior is impressive, though photography of the various parlors and bedrooms isn't allowed. Which was a shame because I would've liked to have gotten pictures of the key from the Bastille, given by Lafayette as a gift to Washington after the mob had destroyed the notorious prison; and the reading chair in the study that came with a built-in fan for use on those hot and humid Virginia summer days.

Once the tour was over, we were free to wander the grounds of Mount Vernon. The fabulous view of the Potomac River from the East Lawn has apparently changed little since Washington's time.

Front (top) and rear (bottom) views of the mansion

A number of small buildings can be seen on the estate's grounds, including the stables (top), with Washington's personal carriage, and the kitchen (below). Kitchens were often housed in separate structures away from the main residences due to the risk of fire.

The tomb containing the marble sarcophagi of George and Martha

George Washington is sleeping here 

Another look at the mansion, taken from the opposite end of the Bowling Green. Mount Vernon covers 500 acres (202 hectares).

Why would there be a camel at Mount Vernon? It seems that Washington hired one at Christmas in 1787 to entertain his guests with an example of the animal that took the Three Wise Men to Nazareth.

After touring the grounds, we visited the onsite museum filled with dioramas of major events from Washington's life. Despite his role as the commander of the American forces during the revolution, his chairmanship of the Constitutional Convention and the eight years in office as the first president, Washington's greatest contribution to American political development may have been his decision to step down after two terms. By setting a precedent later made law by the 22nd Amendment, he may have prevented the emergence of a permanent ruling political class.

The result of the obligatory visit to Mount Vernon's gift shop. I'm very curious to see how the spruce beer will go down the palate.

Old Tais

My daughter stands in front of Goose Pond, part of the Patuxent Research Refuge in Laurel, Maryland. Amber was fascinated by the fact that part of the pond was iced over, and enjoyed skipping rocks across the icy surface. OK, I admit it, so was I.

It's been nearly eight months since leaving Taiwan, and to be honest, I haven't given the place much thought during that time. A couple of items that I came across recently online, however, have given me reason to think back to life on the Beautiful Isle, and to wonder if I did the right thing by coming here. Introspection and retrospection were brief, though, and the answer pretty obvious.

Amber demonstrates

Amy Chavez is a columnist for the Japan Times ジャパンタイムズ , with her "Japan Lite" having appeared in the paper every Saturday for years. Chavez is an inoffensive and sometimes humorous writer, but "lite" is the operative word here, and her observations can be best summed up as "I'm so fortunate to be living this life on a small island in the Inland Sea 瀬戸内海." Chavez apparently spent some time in Taiwan recently, and produced this story for her column, which appeared in the December 29 issue. The headline "How can Japan help save the world? Be more Taiwanese" was certainly an attention-grabber, but the content sadly revealed that all-too-often occurrence of Westerners coming to Taiwan for a short period of time (about a month in Chavez' case), spending most if not all of that period in the capital Taipei 台北 and assuming that what they witnessed there must be true for the entire island. Unfortunately, they feel the need to share these insights with the rest of us.

My daughter the bird-watcher

And just what lessons can we learn from the Taiwanese? According to Chavez, Taiwan is a green paradise because 1.) Taiwan's MRT subway uses plastic electronic tokens as well as the more modern smart cards and In addition, all of Taiwan's restaurants use reusable lightweight metal or plastic chopsticks — no more disposable chopsticks to burn or end up in landfills! Likewise, if you want a plastic bag for your purchase at the convenience store, you have to pay for the bag. More than anything, it forces people to make a decision as to whether they really want a bag or not, rather than just accepting it; 2.) ...although Taiwan may still be relatively new to international tourism, this has not stopped this island of 23 million Chinese speakers from attacking the language barrier (I'm not sure how this helps the planet); 3.) Despite seats being marked "priority seats" on Taiwan's trains and subways, in practice all seats are priority seats. Young people wouldn't dare sit down unless the train car is empty; 4.) Due to their Taosit/Buddhist background, many Taiwanese eat vegetarian at least once a week. As a result, vegetarian restaurants are plentiful. And the food is great — full of spices and flavors not usually associated with non-mooing, non-squawking cuisine. And why do we have this idea that to eat vegetarian, you have to be vegetarian? The Taiwanese have even come up with "fake" beef and fish flavors so that people can eat vegetarian but still have the animalistic taste; and 5.) Taiwan, like Japan, already has a bicycle culture. But the latter now has a cycling culture as well — where people can go long distances on two wheels rather than just to the office or shopping and back. In just a decade, cycling has been embraced by every age bracket and income level, making Taiwan one of the leading cycling countries in the world.

Cash Lake, part of the Patuxent Research Refuge

There exist two Taiwans - the one centered around the modern, progressive metropolis of Taipei, and the one that is characterized by polluting factories, ugly architecture, gangster-dominated local politics and occasionally reactionary denizens. The latter is the one where I lived, and so let me comment briefly on each of Chavez' observations:

1.) It's great that the MRT reuses plastic tokens. However, when it comes to reusable chopsticks, I dined at plenty of restaurants that only provided the disposable kind. Likewise, with plastic bags, things weren't quite as rosy as Chavez imagines things to be. Sure, the large supermarket and convenience store chains charged shoppers for using plastic. But plenty of small shops ignored the law, and gave out plastic bags free of charge. I was in Taiwan when the rules on plastic were first put in force, and I would posit that they haven't had anywhere near the intended benefit. Plastic is still supreme in the Taiwanese heartland.

2.) Though some cities such as Taipei (of course!) and Tainan 台南 have made it easy for non-Mandarin speaking visitors to get around, the same can't be said of other localities. Chavez would do well to consider the plethora of tourist information offices to be found in Japan, often conveniently located in train stations. Even when these offices don't employ English-speaking staff, they often have useful foreign-language brochures and maps, as do many individual sightseeing attractions. Taiwan has some lessons to learn in this area.

3.) The "kindness on the trains" observation is just plain laughable. Perhaps Chavez rode the MRT on a good day, but I've read a lot of blog and Facebook postings complaining about young Taiwanese not giving up their seats to those in need of them. And it's obvious she's never ridden on a regular TRA train in the hinterlands, with people putting their shoes up on the seats, speaking loudly into their cell phones and trying to snag reserved seats for themselves, thereby forcing the rightful ticket-holder to have to ask them to get up.

4.) I know the type of vegetarian restaurant Chavez dined at, and the way the food is presented is impressive. However, vegetarian cuisine in Taiwan usually means eating at small cafeterias offering food drowning in oil just like their carnivore-catering neighbors provide. Unlike in the West, people go veg for religious reasons (and not as healthy or environmentally-friendly lifestyle choices), and the veggie food to be found isn't any better for you than the standard cafeteria fare.

5.) It's great to see Taiwanese out and about on their bicycles, but for the vast majority bikes are for weekend recreational purposes only. In Yokkaichi 四日市, an industrial city in central Japan where I once lived, many people used their bicycles to go shopping at local supermarkets. In Fengyuan 豐原, the former city in central Taiwan where I lived until moving to Washington, D.C. last May, most shoppers relied on their exhaust-spewing scooters for their local shopping excursions. And many young Taiwanese still prefer to spend their free time in indoor venues, for fear of being exposed to the sun and having their skin get dark (Gasp! The horror!). 

These ducks may look like they are standing on the shore, but in fact they're taking advantage of the ice cover in the middle of Cash Lake

Chavez' Taipei-centric article can be excused - she was just a visitor, after all, though I would ask her if she would consider Tōkyō 東京 to be representative of Japan as a whole (and I'm pretty confident what her reply would be). Those resident foreigners who live in Taipei should know better, but many don't seem to (an edited version of Chavez' piece in the Huffington Post elicited "I'm proud to say that Taiwan is my home" from a Canadian who posted a link to it on Facebook earlier today). Which brings me to the second item that got me thinking this week. This one was a blog post put up a couple of days ago, seeking to explain why the blogger suffered reverse cultural shock on his/her recent trip back to the U.S., and why he/she much prefers life in Taipei...I mean Taiwan...well, Taipei, though the writer thinks they mean Taiwan. After some internal debate over whether to provide a link to the blog, I've decided not to so as to not seem too mean-spirited (an exercise in futility, I know). If you're dying to know, here's a hint: think elderly quaffers of a certain aromatic beverage using the cured leaves of a certain plant.

Amber in the woods

Now in all fairness to the blogger, whom I shall refer to as "X", I do agree with a couple of their observations, and I'm assuming that some of their other ones were meant in jest. Health care in this country is a disgrace. Not in terms of quality, which is top-notch, but in terms of the lack of a national health insurance system, making the U.S. a sad exception among the developed nations. Even with Obamacare on the way, and even with a decent private health insurance plan, I dread what might happen to us financially should anyone in this family develop a serious health condition. And even if we remain in sound condition physically, there's the bewildering morass of co-payments, deductibles, what is covered vs. what isn't and so on. The other thing I agree with X concerns attitudes toward religious views - the U.S. is far less secular than many of our friends and allies, which might explain why we are so backward on so many social issues by comparison.

The best shot I could get of a warbler making its way around a tree

Now for the fun stuff. At least I hope these weren't meant to be taken as a serious endorsement of life in Taiwan. Take exhibits A and B, for example: apparently it's a bad thing that Americans say "bless you" after someone sneezes (Taiwanese don't), and while in the States, X experienced a chronically dry nose and throat, to the point that I frequently wake up with nosebleeds. In my case, I got tired of being asked in Taiwan extremely personal questions about my marital status and income (and if it's superstitions that are turning X's knickers into knots, they should just pay a visit to their neighborhood Taoist temple). As for central heating, I'm loving the fact that even though the temperature is a lot colder here in Washington that it ever was in Taiwan, the indoors is far more comfortable. And thanks to insulation, we don't even have to use the heater that often.

Exhibit C: Ridiculous morning shows. This one is a real head-scratcher. Granted, I don't watch GMA or any of those other shows in the morning, but with the number of channels available on American cable/digital TV, and in comparison with the utter vapidity of so much that is broadcast on Taiwanese television, I just can't see what it is that's bothering X so much here. X, obviously, has never had to endure the Japanese morning "wide shows" ワイドショー.

Exhibit D: X is frustrated in America because the public transportation is poor in many places: Let's say you want to go out for a few drinks. Unless you live in a reasonably rural area, you can't go alone. Buses are rare if they exist, taxis cost a mint, and if you drink and can't drive home, and do take a taxi or get a ride, how do you get your car the next day? I don't get at all how this would work. I actually would agree with X here except that it's apparent that they're comparing Taipei with much smaller American cities. Certainly Bostonians, New Yorkers and Washingtonians don't face these dilemmas. And here's where the Taipei-blinkers become noticeable. Many of the questions X raises about the lack of public transport apply to virtually everywhere in Taiwan outside of Taipei and, to a lesser extent, Kaohsiung 高雄. It would've been extremely inconvenient living in Fengyuan without having access to a scooter or a car in order to get around, and those who went into Taichung 台中 for a night of wine, women and song faced an expensive taxi ride home (relatively speaking) back to the burbs.

Exhibit E: Being unable to find what you want in a sea of options. As in going to a Walmart (of all places) and not being able to find a Super Ball (of all things). If this wasn't meant to be funny, then it's sadly just plain stupid. I wouldn't judge a country by its supply of readily available synthetic rubber toys. No, I would make my decisions about permanent residency based on the supply of craft beer. And in this regard, all I can say is god bless the U.S.A.

And it isn't just beer - I've developed a taste for locally-brewed sodas since arriving in Virginia. Give me Birch Beer (or Cheerwine) or give me death! Seriously, though, the quantity and quality of fine foods and drinks is far better here than in Taiwan. I would much rather shop in the Local Market than fight the flies and crowds, not to mention risking the stomach ailments, that come from buying daily provisions in Taiwan's traditional markets.

Exhibit F: People around me actually understanding what I'm saying. I know, it's tough not being able to make fun of people who are in close proximity to you. It must be a constant source of frustration.

Display at the National Wildlife Visitor Center

Reverse culture shock is a legitimate feeling. I've been through it before, having once moved from Tōkyō to Bremerton, Washington, and getting extremely agitated by not being able to walk to anywhere when I needed something like I could do back in Setagaya-ku 世田谷区. And having been away from the States for so long, there are times when I find myself feeling like an outsider in this country. However, in X's case, and in those of many other expats, it goes much deeper. In Taiwan (or Japan, or any other East Asian country) a Westerner like X (and yours truly) stands out. We are showered with attention, much of it not unpleasant, excused for our indiscretions (an advantage some of us put to great use) and made to feel very special, all the while in a place that seemingly holds unlimited interest. Why, even a walk down to the neighborhood ATM can at times be an exciting adventure in an exotic land. The United States (or Canada, or Australia, or the UK, or any other land the passport of which you hold) seems so bland, so ordinary by comparison. And once back home, even if it's only for a short visit, you've gone back to being a nobody, just another face in the crowd. Given such a choice, some opt to put on the rose-tinted glasses and proclaim to the world their love of Taiwan.

Amber and friends at the Visitor Center

So what about me, you may (or may not) be wondering? Is there anything I miss about Taiwan? Well, yes, there is one thing - mountains. Northern Virginia is hilly, but compared to central Taiwan, it's relatively flat. I've done a number of refreshing walks through some scenic countryside here, but I wish I could do more hiking of the vertical variety as opposed to the horizontal.

And what do I like about being back in the States? A couple of things stand out. One is the sheer variety of people around us. In Taiwan, I stood out because I was a white Westerner in a densely-populated Asian country. In the Washington, D.C. area, there is a refreshing mix of ethnicities and races, reflected in the faces you see, the languages you hear spoken, and the shops and restaurants you pass by (and patronize) as you go about town. Diversity is especially welcome when you have a biracial and bicultural child, as I do.

And the other? People here are nicer. Really. That's not to say I didn't meet a number of friendly folks or be the recipient of many acts of kindness while in Taiwan - I did and I was. But quite often it was the type of kindness given to a guest or a visitor, a constant and not always-so-subtle reminder that, no matter how long you had been living in Taiwan, even if you were showing signs of taking up roots there (such as by marrying a local and having children), you were always going to be an outsider, a foreigner, a 外国人, a barbarian. Here in the U.S., people are nice to me because they are nice to everyone. It doesn't matter that you're not a member of their family, nor a part of their social circle, that you're not a classmate or co-worker - many folks here are unthinkingly courteous and pleasant to those around them. No one makes a big deal over the fact that I'm in their vicinity, but at the same time very few act is if I'm completely invisible. 

And so, despite having to readjust to life in a land I left back when George H.W. Bush had just moved into the White House, and despite having to struggle over raising my pathetically poor Mandarin reading and speaking levels (oh the irony!), so far I have no regrets over having left Taiwan. And I certainly won't later this evening when I open up another microbrew.