I
Cultural Heritage DC has established 17 Neighborhood Heritage Trails throughout Washington, DC: my city for the past five years, although I live a little less than half a mile (about 5 blocks) outside its limits, and spend a surprising proportion of my life neglecting to enter its boundaries at all. In keeping with my usual completist spirit (or, also here), as soon as I knew these trails existed (and they are, after all, merely a stroll through existing streets, looking at points of interest), I desired to walk them all. In keeping with the procrastinatory spirit that provides the opposite pole for my mental compass, it took me a year or two to even begin one of them.
Which one to try first?-- Well, the first one listed on the website, of course. That's how completists do things. So off I went (a year or two later) to Adams Morgan.
I didn't plan to cover the whole 2-hour walk at once. For one thing, I thought that training myself to walk in unfamiliar places by myself, without my usual sense of Fearfulness of Men, should be a gradual venture. For another thing, on Thursday, July 7, it happened to be 94 degrees and very humid. So my first Adams Morgan walk was short (though my day overall featured enough outdoor time that I was badly overheated by evening). I took the Metro from Bethesda (where I don't live, but happened to be that morning) to the U Street stop in DC, then walked to the beginning of the "trail" at 16th St. and Florida. The neighborhood between the metro stop and the "trail" appeared economically diverse-- a lot of demolition and construction projects were going on, so I expect the area is gentrifying, though not yet fully gentrified. Shabby corner convenience stores mingled with yoga studios; a trash-filled vacant lot adjoined a trendy restaurant. Judging by the people on the street, it was a majority-black neighborhood.
Cultural Heritage DC has established 17 Neighborhood Heritage Trails throughout Washington, DC: my city for the past five years, although I live a little less than half a mile (about 5 blocks) outside its limits, and spend a surprising proportion of my life neglecting to enter its boundaries at all. In keeping with my usual completist spirit (or, also here), as soon as I knew these trails existed (and they are, after all, merely a stroll through existing streets, looking at points of interest), I desired to walk them all. In keeping with the procrastinatory spirit that provides the opposite pole for my mental compass, it took me a year or two to even begin one of them.
Which one to try first?-- Well, the first one listed on the website, of course. That's how completists do things. So off I went (a year or two later) to Adams Morgan.
I didn't plan to cover the whole 2-hour walk at once. For one thing, I thought that training myself to walk in unfamiliar places by myself, without my usual sense of Fearfulness of Men, should be a gradual venture. For another thing, on Thursday, July 7, it happened to be 94 degrees and very humid. So my first Adams Morgan walk was short (though my day overall featured enough outdoor time that I was badly overheated by evening). I took the Metro from Bethesda (where I don't live, but happened to be that morning) to the U Street stop in DC, then walked to the beginning of the "trail" at 16th St. and Florida. The neighborhood between the metro stop and the "trail" appeared economically diverse-- a lot of demolition and construction projects were going on, so I expect the area is gentrifying, though not yet fully gentrified. Shabby corner convenience stores mingled with yoga studios; a trash-filled vacant lot adjoined a trendy restaurant. Judging by the people on the street, it was a majority-black neighborhood.
I am not sure what this meant, exactly. My camera labeled it "Image 1776."
However, by the time I'd walked the 6-7 blocks to the start of the "trail," I was in another world. This was some fancy shit over here. Big brick townhouses featured elaborate architectural details and well-groomed gardens. Some of the houses and gardens had high walls around them, enclosing their lovely old trees and benches and cobbled driveways. As I proceeded, these city-style mansions mixed with a number of minor embassies and such: Polish, Cuban, Lithuanian, the Scottish Rite Temple and the Mexican Cultural Institute. The people on the streets fell mostly into two categories: well-dressed society women in heels, going out to do whatever society women do at mid-day, and the many laborers required to support these women's lifestyles. A Hispanic maid walked down the street carrying a vacuum cleaner in one hand and a bucket full of cleaning supplies in the other; garbage men created a hot-weather stench that collided with the refined surroundings; landscapers and construction workers rested on the shady sidewalk, eating lunch.
How the other half live.
Both the society women and the support staff were sweating. And so was I. I stopped into a Harris-Teeter (an unfamiliar grocery for me), looking for a cup of coffee; although they seemed fairly upscale, I couldn't find a coffee vendor inside. I ended up using their restroom without buying anything, although that had not been my intention. My face in the restroom mirror was bright pink. I splashed a little water on it to cool myself, but was self-conscious of my sweaty appearance and backpack. I didn't want to look like I was using the Harris-Teeter bathroom to clean up.
Outside, the heat got more and more oppressive as I walked up 16th Street to Columbia Road. Even after this short walk, I began to dream of being inside, and was happy, just before I got back on the Metro at the Columbia Heights station, to find a Potbelly and sit there for an hour, eating lunch and drinking both a coffee and an Izze soda.
 16th Street. |  Huh? |
I photographed this window because it was beautiful. It turns out to belong to the "Washington Family Church National Cathedral," in other words the Unification Church, in still other words the Moonies.
II
July 21: another hot, sunny day over 90 degrees. And it is always a bit hotter on the city sidewalks than it is in my tree-filled neighborhood. I walked my half-mile to the Metro, changed trains at Fort Totten, got off at Columbia Heights to resume my journey. To my surprise, Columbia Heights is really only three stops from my home station, even though it requires a line change. It is close. I could probably walk there.
Maybe this project really will serve to familiarize me with my own city, where I have lived for five years now.
When I got back to the Moonie church, I knew I was on track to continue the "trail." The cityscape changes a lot in the few blocks between the Columbia Heights station and that big intersection of 16th St. and Columbia Rd. I'm always surprised by the abrupt transitions between neighborhoods here. On one block, the row houses may appear rundown, in ill-repair, with barren front gardens and an air of desolation. But on the very next block, you may suddenly realize that the same row houses (buildings that are inherently lovely, even when neglected) are clean and spruced-up with bright paint in trendy colors, with flowering bushes, shiny cars and bicycles in front. (And in DC, even the modestly-sized ones will be going for at least half a million dollars.)
July 21: another hot, sunny day over 90 degrees. And it is always a bit hotter on the city sidewalks than it is in my tree-filled neighborhood. I walked my half-mile to the Metro, changed trains at Fort Totten, got off at Columbia Heights to resume my journey. To my surprise, Columbia Heights is really only three stops from my home station, even though it requires a line change. It is close. I could probably walk there.
Maybe this project really will serve to familiarize me with my own city, where I have lived for five years now.
When I got back to the Moonie church, I knew I was on track to continue the "trail." The cityscape changes a lot in the few blocks between the Columbia Heights station and that big intersection of 16th St. and Columbia Rd. I'm always surprised by the abrupt transitions between neighborhoods here. On one block, the row houses may appear rundown, in ill-repair, with barren front gardens and an air of desolation. But on the very next block, you may suddenly realize that the same row houses (buildings that are inherently lovely, even when neglected) are clean and spruced-up with bright paint in trendy colors, with flowering bushes, shiny cars and bicycles in front. (And in DC, even the modestly-sized ones will be going for at least half a million dollars.)
Anyway, by the time I reached 16th Street, I was back in the realm of stately row houses and minor embassies. There were a couple of very nice city parks: Walter Pierce Park, just to the north of Adams-Morgan, and the lovely Kalorama Park and recreation center. Storefronts included organic dry cleaners and natural foods groceries, and stylish retail businesses with "Design" in their names. There were nannies walking the streets with strollers, and well-groomed but casually-dressed young people. I followed the "trail" as far as Kalorama Road, then continued walking down Columbia Road and then Connecticut Ave. towards the Dupont Circle Metro station. For those that are unfamiliar with DC: even I know that Dupont Circle is one of the wealthiest and trendiest areas of town. Once I got to Connecticut Ave., I stopped for some lunch at the Soho Cafe, a wildly crowded joint with gorgeous hot and cold buffet bars as well as made-to-order items. It was hard to maneuver through the well-dressed young professionals and construction guys on their lunch breaks, lugging my backpack and tray through the narrow spaces between buffets and refrigerator cases and bodies. Nevertheless I ended up with a cup of coffee, a plate full of cold salad and veggies and kim-bob and a little chicken, and a pineapple-coconut water. Eventually I also scored a table. It was a perfect meal for someone whose face was bright red from the exertion of walking on a hot day.
A mural.
Walter Pierce Park.
Building on Adams Mill Road.
Then, to the Metro-- a longer ride home via the Red Line-- and some more walking to get home, choosing the shady side of the street.
On my way to Dupont Circle Metro: Major General George B. McClellan, next to the beautiful Churchill Hotel.
III
Sept 1-- this walk has taken me a while. On a day that was mercifully cooler-- not only than my past two Adams Morgan walks, but than yesterday and almost every day for the past two months-- I set off again for the Metro. It was a gray and drizzly morning. A long ride on the Red Line later, I got off at Dupont Circle and set off up Connecticut Avenue towards Kalorama Road and today's start point at Kalorama and Columbia. Once again, on the quiet residential streets, the only people coming and going were the staff necessary to maintain these imposing buildings. A group of men folded a series of dropcloths; another group of men were armed with mops and pails. This is a neighborhood where people really take pride in their front gardens, which are full of flowering shrubs, exotic trees pruned in artistic shapes, and bright blooms in stone tubs. But the actual work, no doubt, is done by gardeners.
The walk back down Columbia Road towards Florida Ave. was familiar: I passed the Churchill Hotel again, with George McClellan and his horse, and the Soho Cafe. I noticed one or two more small embassies I did not see before. Mostly what grabbed my attention were the architectural details: these buildings, whatever questions of class they may raise, are beautiful. So are the gardens.
Sept 1-- this walk has taken me a while. On a day that was mercifully cooler-- not only than my past two Adams Morgan walks, but than yesterday and almost every day for the past two months-- I set off again for the Metro. It was a gray and drizzly morning. A long ride on the Red Line later, I got off at Dupont Circle and set off up Connecticut Avenue towards Kalorama Road and today's start point at Kalorama and Columbia. Once again, on the quiet residential streets, the only people coming and going were the staff necessary to maintain these imposing buildings. A group of men folded a series of dropcloths; another group of men were armed with mops and pails. This is a neighborhood where people really take pride in their front gardens, which are full of flowering shrubs, exotic trees pruned in artistic shapes, and bright blooms in stone tubs. But the actual work, no doubt, is done by gardeners.
The walk back down Columbia Road towards Florida Ave. was familiar: I passed the Churchill Hotel again, with George McClellan and his horse, and the Soho Cafe. I noticed one or two more small embassies I did not see before. Mostly what grabbed my attention were the architectural details: these buildings, whatever questions of class they may raise, are beautiful. So are the gardens.
The Gabonese embassy.
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My formal tour of Adams Morgan ended with a walk up 18th St, which has a completely different vibe. A long string of clubs, bars, and restaurants, many with vaguely suggestive names, advertise not sleaze but a kind of hip, sex-positive party atmosphere. Club Heaven & Hell, Tryst, Shenanigans, Libertine. It reminded me a little of New Orleans, with fewer trinkets and white middle-American tourists; just as this thought crossed my mind, I spotted a "New Orleans Cafe."
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That's kind of it for Adams Morgan. A strange blend of uber-rich people with paid laborers, trendy-wealthy young people with trendy tastes, a really surprising number of panhandlers and other obviously homeless people for such a wealthy neighborhood, and one street where Starbucks-and-yoga is traded in for PARTY!!! I get the feeling that the people who party there cannot possibly live there, but I might be wrong.
On my walk back to the Metro (Woodley Park/Zoo this time), I got to cross the Duke Ellington Memorial Bridge, which for some reason I find really beautiful. It is not a beauty I find easy to capture in photographs.
On my walk back to the Metro (Woodley Park/Zoo this time), I got to cross the Duke Ellington Memorial Bridge, which for some reason I find really beautiful. It is not a beauty I find easy to capture in photographs.
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