Longing

Spending last week in Washington has reawakened those longings I try so hard to keep dormant or dead. I really did like what I saw there, and I didn't expect to. The city felt livable, navigable, and the sheer luxury of being able to get on the Metro and arrive at the ridiculous wealth of one of the many free museums almost made me lightheaded. It was like a feast of fairy-tale proportions, and I've been starving for a long time now.

Just the architecture alone made it worth it. I could have taken my Nikon and spent days walking and shooting the details on common buildings without ever approaching anything like a national monument or historically-significant building. There was such a great blend of styles and a preservation of buildings that pleased me.

From the time I got off the plane, there was the wonderful sound of other languages everywhere. This, of course, is no surprise in the nation's capital, but it was wonderful to me to see other languages written, to hear them spoken, and to see restaurants and services catering to other cultures. I wanted to take time to quietly explore all of them and revel in it.

History, too, was an ever-present friend. It was impossible to turn the eyes or take a step without it tapping me on the shoulder or whispering in my ear. Things and places I'd heard about all my life suddenly were laid out before me like jewels on display. Again, there was far too much there to take in during a casual excursion such as mine. It needed a much deeper exploration.

And what shocked me, ultimately, as I got on the plane to leave, was how much I wanted that deeper exploration. I wanted very much not to be leaving Washington at all. I know that living in a place is never the same as vacationing in one, and I certainly heard enough "natives" complain about it while I was there, but I can't help but thinking that at least for a little while, I would have enough to dazzle me that no matter how bad it was, the positives would outweigh the rest.