travel: day 3 washington dc

I just watched here in the cafe, an African American man, wearing a black hoodie that said I Am My Ancestor’s Wildest Dream passed by. I love that. I walked again to the Tatte Bakery Cafe in the city center. And took notice of footwear. I guess that's one way of telling who the locals are. Who wears sandals in early rainy April? And of course I do love leather shoes with a suit.                          

 

Some of the locals do wear athletic shoes like my favorite Adidas Stan Smith. When my Adidas blue suede Gazelle wear out (there are holes forming in both heels), I want a pair of black leather Sambas. And this time I photographed the neon graffiti at Tiffany's as a reminder to wear my Paloma Picasso's graffiti love ring.

 

The pistachio croissants as well as the savory pastries looked scrumptious.

Oh I miss these sweet pastries of Kouign Amann and Morning Buns.

And then my S P I N A C H , J E R U S A L E M  A R T I C H O K E , & E G G  P L AT E ( C I L B I R ) arrived. Sautéed spinach, roasted Jerusalem Artichoke (which I now know are sunchokes) and a poached egg, over garlic labneh, with Aleppo chili oil, served with sourdough. And my new favorite hot drink, London Fog or Earl Grey tea with vanilla and milk.

 

And then I began my walk to the Hirshorn and promptly got lost. I think where I ended up walking is back to Chinatown in the Penn Quarter. I finally turned around and went past this Catholic church again.   

And knew I was headed back to the city central when I passed the Thomson Elementary school which is across the street from this similar red brick apartment building. I wonder if it was perhaps the headmaster's home or the lodgings for the teachers back in the day. Now it's surrounded by modern buildings and offices. I do like getting lost and figuring out what neighborhood I'm in. 

If I go back to Washington, D.C. though, I want to stay closer to the Metro Station and the Capitol and come on a weekend to go to the Eastern Market and the Library of Congress. So once I was closer to the National Mall, I finally started to feel oriented and could see the Hirshorn in my sights.
     

Unfortunately, the third floor was closed because they were still creating exhibits to celebrate its 50th anniversary. I was the only person on a docent tour, and afterward my docent said I should just stroll through the sculpture garden and go to the Smithsonian American Art Museum at the National Portrait Gallery. And so I did! My feet were aching once I got there, but at least I also knew I wasn't far afterward from my hotel. Alas!

Across the street I saw that another historical building was turned into a hotel. That bums me out, but I suppose we tourists gotta stay somewhere close.

 

As I approached the main entrance, I helped a couple a take a photo in front of the museum. I declined their kind offer to take my pic.

A volunteer at the front desk, when I told her that I was incredibly fatigued, steered me toward the top to make my way down and incorporate a rest stop. Yes please. And once I'd rested and walked and looked, I started exiting opposite where I entered, where a reception was being prepared, I asked a caterer who and she said she wasn't allowed to disclose who were the very important people. No matter, I was exhausted and hungry.

 

And rather than wait a couple hours to take a Lyft from my hotel to a Cambodian restaurant in Columbia Heights I wanted to try, I opted for the confused Chinese restaurant around the corner from my hotel. And instead of ordering the ramen or lamen soup, I thought I'd finally try Dan Dan cooked by a Chinese chef. I dithered over just sipping my large Chardonnay until I could take a taxi, but I was so damn tired.

Instead I ordered the Taiwanese smashed cucumber (underwhelming) and asked the waitress to ask the chef to please add bok choi to my noodles too because I was craving more vegetables. The Dan Dan was pretty darn disappointing.

A dish that originates from Chengdu. Where was the mala? Where was the red color of fiery chilies? No mouth numbing and no flavor. And so this afternoon, I'm going to defrost some pork and make my own version. And this time, maybe I'll make my own version of tea and soy sauce Asian marinated eggs.

clay: kurinuki box

I've still yet to post about my third and last day in Washington, D.C. and unload my photo dump, but in the meantime, I'm back at work and in the studios. I wasn’t going to try to view the solar eclipse this week, but couldn’t help going when I saw science teachers and their students outside on a brilliantly sunny day. And I’m glad I did because it was pretty cool. I wore the glasses for viewing the eclipse given to me by the science department chair and took a pic of the eclipse with them on. And then I took a pic with my camera lens directly on the lens of the viewing glasses.           

 

And the photo is not exactly as I viewed them directly with just the glasses, but still you get the idea. And then it was back to my desk with my computer monitor on the NASA view of the solar eclipse.

I do think I try to draw upon nature when I'm making. But my hand is poor at realistically rendering nature like these beautiful soft orange and peach tulips, which is why I guess I like abstraction because I can't.

I was telling Zan why I like kurinuki so much. The technique of subtraction (which is a major element of abstraction)is so very Japanese, of trying to capture the beauty and imperfection of nature. And so I’ve been making not only kurinuki cups, but also vases. And the droop of those tulips inspired me to turn a cup into a tall vase, which I didn’t photograph and need to find in all the bisque that came out of the kiln yesterday. Yesterday I spent the majority of the afternoon carving this box, of which I photographed all four sides. It's in the photos, where I notice that my lid is not completely fitting into the base and so not looking like a solid piece of rock. But that's okay. I'm still learning this technique.

  

I took one final photo of the lid. And I'll likely look at the greenware today and continue to mess with it.

I think the glaze will make up for the clumsiness of my skill at carving. And I'm already thinking that I'll adhere my favorite rutile on this pot for a cone 10 firing.

travel: washington dc day 2

Day 2! I started with a half mile walk to Tatte Bakery & Cafe at the City Center, in the rain (and so I bought an umbrella at Walgreens and thankfully not too wet today), passing the toniest of stores such as Tiffany jewelry and Brioni suits. And sure enough breakfast was among those business-attired professionals. I ordered the Sausage Breakfast Sandwich: Sujuk-spiced (I thought it was just cumin)beef sausage with a poached egg, Vermont cheddar and tomato on a housemade challah roll. OMFG delicious. So too was my decaf Americano.  

I want to return tomorrow and get a Spinach, Jerusalem artichoke, and egg plate (Cilbir)for the aforementioned ingredients plus garlic labneh and Aleppo chili oil. BUT I've also never had shakshuka, and theirs might just make it my first tastiest bite of that favorite Middle Eastern meal. 

 

Onward to the museums. On the way, I passed the Waldorf Astoria, which I remember my Lyft driver saying was formerly owned by Donald Trump. It is grand, but ugh, did DJT really get to turn the old Post Office into his hotel? Boggles my mind, and now it's owned by the Hiltons.           

What is this building? Is it the Supreme Court building? Or the Department of Justice building? 

 

Or is it the National Archives? I can't tell from the side.

Ahh, the home of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and the Bill of Rights!

And of course I was intrigued by the statues. I love the quote, "What is past is prologue." History sets the context for the present. And so she is the statue at the National Archives. And why an Art Deco statue of a muscular man wrestling a horse in front of the Federal Trade Commission building? Was this commissioned during the 1930s? How is the horse representative of trade? Regulation versus unbridled markets. 

 

Okay I'm going to have to read these excerpts on American history later.

And irony of ironies. Here's a homeless person nearby. There's #vanlife, but no one posts #shoppingcartlife. Minutes later I approached my destination. Yes, the National Gallery of Art, and I think I entered the 7th Street entrance.

 

I took a fuckload of photos. Maybe too many. Maybe not. But I'm not wanting yet to post them to this blog. My legs and back were sore after miles of walking after touring both the West and then the East building of the National Gallery of Art. And so here's what happened afterward. I exited the East building and saw a lone red taxi outside. I asked for a ride to the Wharf. Spied the National Museum of the Indian American...                          

 

Arrived at the Wharf and made a beeline for the fish market and rounded the corner...

 

This is my kind of seafood place. No pretension, just pounds and pounds of fresh fish from the sea.

Here's where I went first.

 

At the raw bar, I tried raw clams for the first time. They were delicious, but I think I would have enjoyed it with a mignonette.

 

While eating my clams, I watched these Asian men buy giant crab claws.

 

Alas I did not eat blue crab on this trip.

 

After eating outdoors, I then went to this second oyster bar I wanted to try.

 

The oysters were delicious, and first I drank the Chardonnay and then the house white which was a Vinho Verde.

 

Just like at Hank's Oyster Bar, I ordered an oyster po'boy. It was not as delicious as the one I ate at Hank's. The oysters were dinky and was just the flavor of fried, and I didn't like that the coleslaw was in the sandwich rather than on the side like at Hank's though I liked the choice of a French roll rather than a butter-toasted split hot dog roll.

 

While looking for the souvenir shop, I watched canoe paddlers warming up and viewed a ferry ship.

 

I found the gift and jewelry store and wished I had stopped in the independent bookstore Politics and Prose instead. And it's right by the headquarters of my favorite periodical.

I walked as far as the auditorium where plays are performed and then returned to the free shuttle stop.

I got off at the National Mall which was just a few blocks from the National Gallery of Art and thence a few more blocks from my hotel.