Washington’s Autumn September 8, 2007

Another of my entries to the Conde Nast Traveler contest (taken Nov 06):

Autumn is the perfect time to visit DC with the leaves breezily dancing over the sidewalks, the thinned crowds making the monuments feel very private. Walking around in a fall jacket, the subtle nip in the air indicates how quiet the area will be once winter actually sets in. As the leaves fall from the trees, the surroundings change again, but the monuments remain unaltered. We see the everlasting history of this great city and the very mutable future that can be ours with a dream.

Labor Day: Part 2 September 3, 2007

We found a big, fat history lesson in Colonial Williamsburg. If only history class had been interactive like this, I might have actually learned something or gotten good grades. Aside from the steep price, it was a pretty fun experience.

Something I found really fascinating is that Colonial Williamsburg hires people who actually have the “ye olde” professions. I have, in the past, wondered what people who major in professional harpsichord-making would do for a living. Now I know. What about the people who want to make guns old-school-style or leather shoes and saddles? They’re also at Colonial Williamsburg. What about wigs made by hand? Yep. Did you study “ye olde” printing pressing? Were you a colonial jailer in your past life? You’ve got a job! And the people who like American history, answering questions, and interacting with strangers? They’re there, too.

Colonial Williasmburg rents costumes for the day, and I was suprised to see how many people (children, mostly) take advantage of this. The best image we saw, barely captured on film, was a set of four girls, each about eight years old, all four in their “ye olde” dresses and neon-colored Crocs shoes. Other interesting things I got to see for the first time were two oxen and a unicorn. The oxen reminded me of the Oregon Trail videogame from my childhood, and the unicorn might have just been a white plow horse, but I didn’t see his head, so I suspect? Unicorn!

The people of Williamsburg reenacted their part of the Revolution. We got to see George Washington, live and in person! My only disappointments were that I didn’t see a single person making candles or soap, and the blacksmith wasn’t currently smithing. Otherwise, it was a pretty good day. We ate at Cracker Barrel on the way back home because I think on the Virginia highway? You probably have to. There just aren’t enough quick-stop sushi bars.

Labor Day: Part 1 September 3, 2007

Labor Day is an American Tradition.  On Labor Day, much like Memorial Day, millions of Americans are expected to pack up their stuff and sit in traffic for hours upon hours in order to get to a destination, like the beach, that they will only stay in for a few days.

I do, however, love last-minute trips, so we decided to spend Labor Day weekend in Virginia at Colonial Williamsburg. Since I can only handle so much American history in a weekend, we realized we would have to find another activity, too. But since we were already behind all the other Labor Day vacationers in planning, first thing’s first: reserve a hotel for Saturday night. After searching for a while, we realized that there wasn’t much left on the cheap except the Ramada in Hampden, VA, about 2o minutes from Williamsburg. That’s cool. Given our placement in Hampden, VA, it was obvious that we should go to the beach. Virginia Beach.  About 35 more miles away.  We could have dinner there, see the area, and get up early the next morning for our history lesson in Williamsburg.

We hopped in the car around noon on Saturday hoping to miss traffic that late in the day, and we mostly did except for a few rough patches. We got to the Ramada around 4pm, dropped our stuff off in a mildew-smelling room. We didn’t feel like arguing because it was already late in the day and the clerk was inundated with problems (read: other guests) of her own. So we booked it out of there immediately, hoping not to return until it was well past bedtime. Then, it took us an hour to drive three miles to the Norfolk tunnel. An hour after that, around 6:30, we were in Virginia Beach parking the car for $7 in municipal parking. I should mention that I was also going to ask the Ramada people for advice on where to park or what to see at the beach, but they were in the middle of an arguments about important things like who owed whom money and where replacement irons were kept (both guest v. hotel). It was a classy joint.

The first striking thing I noticed about Virginia Beach was the smell: the overwhelming smell of dead fish. It was not pleasant, and I quietly hoped that I wasn’t the only one who could smell it. The beach actually looked pretty pleasant, had soft sand, and the people had mostly cleared off of it for the day. The sun was setting, and it was getting chilly out. My second important observation about the area was that every person in a sweatshirt was wearing one that said “Virginia Beach” on it. There must be quite a market for those. It seemed like a club that I could only join as a complete poseur. The third thing I noticed was that, aside from a Dairy Queen, there was no boardwalk food. Where oh where was the fried… anything?! Ocean City is more indulgent than this, and dare I say nicer, too, and Ocean City ain’t nicer than much!

It turned out that all of the shops and “food” were on Atlantic Ave, off of the boardwalk. But there was no food. There were bars and raw bars and icecream stands, and two pizza joints, but only one stinky arcade and absolutely no fried beach-food. What kind of a beach is this? Don’t these people snack? There were all sorts of haunted houses, fun houses, and “amazing carnival” stuff, but no fried beach-food! I was ready to go, the dead fish smell totally grossing me out. But hunger and our want for adventure dictated we find food or die trying. So after finding the crappiest (but only) fried-food stand ever and trying their (purported last serving of) fried clamstrips, we went to a raw bar.

The bartender was drunk and still drinking. It was only 9pm. We ordered broiled shrimp that were flavorless and crab dip that was okay. And beer. That was it for us. Kind of sucked. At least the Red Sox were on tv and ahead, although the bartender took them off the tv in front of me in order to put on football that no one was watching. I complained, but he was drunk and just pointed to another tv behind me. So we left, got pretty good frozen custard, hopped back in the car and left. If only there had been more arcades. The drive back took about an hour total, and we were at the hotel by 11. So much for a late night! Maybe I’m a bit of a princess, but I spent most of the night tossing and turning thinking that there were bedbugs or cockroaches in this mildew-smelling room. I got up at 7, completely unrested.

We checked out at 8 where the clerk asked if everything had been okay. I said “the room smelled like mildew, but otherwise I guess it was okay”. She said, “that’s nice”. I could have said “My boyfriend got eaten by something that came out of the toilet.” She totally didn’t care. The complimentary breakfast, however, was better than expected and therefore crowded. They had lots of cereal and bread-things and even had a waffle maker. Then, a strange event: the same lady from check-in the day before who had been arguing about the iron tried to seat her friend in my chair across from Numero Uno. When we said “hey”, she said, “oh, I didn’t see you there”, as if to either my purse or Numero Uno or maybe just the space in between them. So we scratched our heads, ate some more, and left for Williamsburg.