Local Tourist Goes Solo

The tall boy ditched the gaggle of girls (i.e. us) as soon as we hit Union Station for our big city adventure last week. He was a man with a mission, and he headed straight to the Library of Congress.

He is old enough now to get a Library of Congress card, which grants him reading room privileges and access to most of the Library's resources. This is really just the coolest thing ever, as far as he is concerned -- and I have to say I agree with him. He can now go sit in the shockingly lovely main Reading Room and studiously peruse books brought to him by gracious and knowledgeable librarians. It's geek heaven, I'm telling you.

tangent: The Library of Congress main Reading Room was one of the stars of the second National Treasure movie.

another tangent: So you have to have a reason for requesting privileges at the Library of Congress, and "because it would be the coolest thing ever" is not considered to be a good enough excuse. When I asked the boy what reason he gave when he requested his card, he didn't miss a beat when he responded, "I'm studying the root causes of World War I, with an emphasis on the Wilsonian response to European aggression." Didn't practice that in front of the mirror too much, did he?

From the Library of Congress the tall boy walked down Capitol Hill and on to the National Mall, so he could go to his absolute favorite museum ever: the National Air and Space Museum . . .

. . . where he saw this painting, which was created by a real live Apollo astronaut, which is really just so cool, don't you think? The tall boy sure did. He waxed all eloquent about how Alan Bean uses his astronaut stuff as he paints his pieces -- for example, you can see texture created by boot prints on this painting, and those actual boots walked on the actual moon! For real!

The tall boy's final stop was the National Gallery of Art, where he thought he was going to look at a lot of different stuff -- but instead got he sucked in to this trippy Salvador Dali painting. He reports that it weirded him out. But in a good way.

Image Credits:
"Reading Room": Library of Congress gift shop
"First Men: Neil Armstrong": Alan Bean, 2007/National Air and Space Museum
"The Sacrament of the Last Supper": Salvador Dali, 1955/National Gallery of Art

Local Tourists

Yesterday I went with a big swarm of girls and one tall boy into Washington, D.C., to do some sightseeing and poking around. We love living so close to this fabulous city, and being able to take advantage of its many pleasures on the spur of the moment. We even ran into the President! My girl looks worried -- probably intimidated by all the Secret Service types.

tangent: For many years the tall boy's birthday celebration consisted of a trip to some Smithsonian -- Air and Space? Love it! Natural History? Coolest dinosaurs ever -- and we know some of the scientists who work there. We've had them over for dinner! American History? An old and dear friend. These days it's the youngest urchin who must make an annual pilgrimage to gaze longingly at her beloved, the one and only Smithsonian mummy.

This trip was planned with the idea that we would do some things that we had never done before -- we would stay away from the "main drag" on the National Mall and see some new stuff. The adventure started when we took the train! Which turned out to be no different than taking the subway! Except that most subway stations don't look like this:

Union Station is an architectural stunner -- and makes a sucky commute seem almost worth it.

The tall boy bailed on us immediately and went off to have his own adventure, which I will report about tomorrow. Shockingly, he didn't see the appeal in traipsing around the city with three moms and seven girl urchins who come up to his waist. Weird.

The rest of us went to the Smithsonian's Postal Museum, which is a small space dedicated to . . . can you guess? The best part was that a nice woman encouraged us to begin a stamp collection, and even provided us with stamps to start out! She had boxes and boxes of canceled stamps from all over the world, and we could choose any six for our own collections. We each chose a theme and plunged in, and I got a little OCD and crazed about it.

An urchin not my own obsessed with me, and finally the nice lady had to make harrumphing noises about lunch -- or I think we would still be there.

My youngest girl chose birds as her theme . . .

. . . while I was surprised to find that there are gorgeous stamps from all over the world, celebrating various events in the life of Jesus. And we got to use tweezers, and a magnifying glass -- I felt so philatelical! <-- a real word! Other urchins thrilled themselves by "driving" a mail truck and learning about the joys of direct mail -- which means they learned how to to send themselves junk mail.

We traveled on by subway from the Postal Museum to the National Geographic Hall of the Explorers -- normally an exhibition space -- which unfortunately for us was being renovated. We were able to see a cool photo gallery of lions and cheetahs.

tangent: People just walk all over these beautiful brass medallions set into the floor! Hmmph!

This urchin (who reminds me so much of myself at her age that it makes my heart hurt -- although she's not my own personal urchin) was mesmerized and thrilled and a little grossed out by the up-front bluntness of the predator and prey film footage.

By the time we walked to our last new adventure (a gallery devoted to the textile arts), the adventurous urchins were not so much about the exploring new experiences, and more about the finding new and unique places to sit down.

Good thing we had milkshakes and the tall boy waiting for us at the train station!

Is anything in the British Museum actually British?

People -- ! We saw the Elgin Marbles! OK, so now they're called the Parthenon Marbles, but please . . . . we all know: "Finders -- keepers, losers -- Greek museums." I just read this article in Vanity Fair about how the Greeks are all, "dudes -- you stole our priceless heritage, and we want it back." And the Brits are all, "Sucks for you!" I paraphrase.

But whatever -- I got to see them and I'm so glad -- because I really do have a sneaking suspicion that the Greeks will win this fight eventually (the document signed by the big cheese of the Ottoman Empire holds less and less water as the years go by) -- and I don't have a realistic chance in hell of getting to Athens any time soon.

I mean, good grief -- they took an entire temple! Just boxed it up and took it home, because after all, the Greeks weren't using it any more. The logical flaw here, of course, is that I have never read anywhere that Lord Elgin worshiped the Olympian gods either. What the heck did he need a stinkin' temple for?!? Gosh, it's pretty, though!

I haven't decided yet whether I want to marry this woman or be this woman. Either way, my prospects don't look good.

In another part of the British Museum, we saw so many mummies that I'm a little over them. This is particularly ironic for those of you who know my youngest girl, and how obsessed she is with all things anciently Egyptian -- especially mummies!

My husband and I set out to methodically photograph the entire mummy room for our girl, since we both knew what it would mean to her. And we took just a whole lot of pictures. But -- oh my God, these people stole all the mummies, too! There were so many sarcophagi that it actually got a little mundane.

tangent: Meanwhile my poor girl asks to go to the Smithsonian once a year on her birthday so she can gaze lovingly at the one measly mummy housed in the Museum of Natural History. [Please, no comments about my nerdy children; I choose to think of them as adorably quirky . . . .] AND she has to suffer through the lamest "Gilgamesh" display ever to get to our poor sad mummy.

I always love to see displays of jars that held the organs of dead people, especially when they have been extracted through the nose (information provided, of course, by my youngest girl).

This painting was "rescued" from Pompeii. What was it rescued from? Italians, I guess. I love these faces -- they look so much like people I know.

Entirely carved of jade. The Boxer Rebellion guaranteed that this bad boy would become a British citizen.

I don't understand this at all, but I love it.

I could have looked at this for hours, but a) I don't get it, and b) Elgin Marbles!

To be honest, by the end of the day I was staggering with fatigue and museum-glut -- you know that feeling that you are just overwhelmed by too much information? Really, I almost cried when I saw that there was a "Medieval Britain" section of the museum. I studied this crap all through college and grad school; I love it. I mean, I really love it. And if I had been required to gaze upon another tapestry or piece of blown glass, I think I would have smashed a case and grabbed an iconic piece of Bronze Age bronze to poke my eyes out with.

But then I saw him! My new boyfriend -- the Sutton Hoo helmet! (Don't tell Barack Obama!) He's a hunk of manly Anglo-Saxon man, born and buried in England (shocking, I know). He's dreamy -- AND he looks like Darth Vader wearing Ray-Bans. I'm in love.