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...:

 

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: