With gas prices rising rapidly, it was only a matter of time before airline prices followed suit. When I started pricing tickets for Raleigh-Durham to Athens I found that even April seemed expensive. After a lot of not-very-encouraging time on the 'net I settled for British Airways for Washington-London, flying at the end of March, and continuing to Thessaloniki on Olympic Airlines. The cheapest rate to Washington, I was surprised to discover, was on an Amtrak train - booking early, with a AAA discount, got the price down to $36 one way. But since I couldn't count on the late morning train arriving in time for me to catch my flight from Dulles, I would need to spend at least one night in Washington (putting the price back up again, of course). Then my friend Mary agreed to spend the weekend in Washington with me - we would both ride Amtrak for the first time.
In the past, I've found good discounted hotels using hotwire.com, and this time, choosing a 3.5 star hotel in the Dupont Circle area got us a room in the well-located Westin on Massachusetts Avenue. I made a restaurant reservation for Friday night and a panda reservation for Sunday morning, and we were all set.
Friday morning I ran through the last of my leaving home checklist, and Mary picked me up right on schedule. We collected sandwiches from Subway (better and cheaper than Amtrak, we discovered) and drove downtown to the Cary train station. At least, Amtrak calls it a train station. In reality, it proved to be a Department of Motor Vehicles license-renewal office and an open platform.
At this point the train was only five minutes late and much fuller than I had expected, even after the big group of kids and parents who boarded at Cary got off at the next stop. Once we snared a window seat we had plenty of leg room and a good view - a big improvement over sardine-class on an airplane. Still, there is no disguising the fact that passenger trains rate far behind freight on the U.S. rail network, and we experienced enough holdups to put us two whole hours late into Washington. I was glad I only had a restaurant reservation to make rather than facing a mad dash to Dulles.
Whoever was responsible for renovating Union Station did a great job, and we were duly impressed by the Victorian-era opulence. The Westin proved less opulent but plenty comfortable - great beds, fluffy towels and plenty of hot water compensated for the broken bathroom vent, nonfunctional hairdryer and slightly worn appearance.
Dinner at the Indique was above reproach - once Mary secured us a table upstairs. Popadums and chutney, chaat papri (fritters in a pretty green-and-white yoghurt sauce) and Goan shrimp curry were all carefully spiced and delicious. A suitably Washingtonian touch was provided by a man at the next table whose opening gambit was to inquire whether we were Democrats or Republicans.
Next morning we slept in, before following a recommendation from a fodors.com poster to check out Eastern Market and the Montmartre restaurant. The market looked like a great place to buy meat or seafood, and we were amused to spot a stall selling N.C. hams. We both loved the food at the cozy Montmartre - fish soup and pate for me, endive salad with walnuts and blue cheese and berry tart for Mary.
I hadn't realized that we would be in Washington for the start of the cherry blossom festival, but the crowds round the Tidal Basin weren't as bad as I had feared (the blossoms were not quite out), and we had only a short wait for a pedal boat. Once we stopped trying to go at any speed, pedaling the boat was easy enough on our leg muscles (although the boat was given to over-steering) and we enjoyed a good frontal view of the Jefferson Memorial.
We then reached the Art Museum not long before closing time, and so were able to walk right into the deservedly-popular Cezanne exhibition. I loved the middle-period Provencal paintings, but not the later, cubism-inspired versions. Since we had day passes for the Metro we took another look at Union Station (with coffee) and went back to the Westin for a rest before heading downtown again for dinner. Mary vetoed the Jaleo (Spanish tapas) as way too crowded and we ate OK Mexican at the Andale instead.
Sunday we climbed out of bed to the sound of the alarm as I had reserved 9:20 a.m. tickets (free) for the pandas at the Zoo. This day we bought day passes on the bus instead of the Metro, as the bus delivered us to the Zoo's front gate. Turned out the pandas weren't popular so early and we could have walked in without tickets. While dad, mom and baby were cute enough I had been spoiled by the Panda Reserve in Chengdu and was much more impressed by the golden lion tamarins in the Small Mammal House - and by the young but ponderous Komodo dragon we finally tracked down behind the reptile house.
After a lengthier-than-intended brunch at the Woodley Cafe we took another bus to the resolutely neo-gothic National Cathedral. Our tour guide was wooden and not especially informative, but we found a better one holding forth in the crypt. I picked up a guide to the many (modern) gargoyles and another for the stained glass, as Mary was willing to take them back to N.C. for me.
We finished the day with another excellent Indian meal. The "Unofficial Guide to Washington D.C." had said that the Heritage India was closed on Sunday (in common with a lot of other places) but we passed it on our way to the Tabard Inn and found it open. Although we now have a sizable Indian population in the Triangle area, and several Indian restaurants, I have yet to find one nearly as good as those in Washington. Both Mary's chicken tikka masala and my lamb curry were excellent, and we had fun exchanging Indian travel stories with the guys at the next table.
I really enjoyed the weekend with Mary, but Monday morning she set off for Union Station for her train ride home, while I spent an expensive 15 minutes on the 'net checking email and printing my boarding card. After I checked out of the Westin (leaving my pack) I went back to the Tidal Basin to see how the blossoms were coming along. Not very fast, it seemed, so while I was in the area I checked out the new WWII memorial. Everything I had read said that it was an eyesore - I totally agree!
Montmartre wasn't open for lunch on a Monday, so I settled for a cheese and avocado omelet at neighboring Bread and Chocolate. The retired journalist at the next table informed me that he was responsible for "discovering" Howard Stern: I wasn't sure whether to offer congratulations or condemnation. Next I trekked back to the National Gallery of Art, East Wing, for the Dada exhibition. Since my autumn trip was so rudely interrupted, I'd finally been able to attend the Thursday morning art history lectures at the N.C. Art Museum, in the hope that I might at last develop an appreciation of modern art. Alas, I left on this trip before we reached the true moderns, but I did make it through the Dadaists. However, while I initially enjoyed the pictures (hard to call some of them paintings) and understood the artists' reactions to the man-made horrors of WWI, after a while they became repetitive. I escaped across the street to visit with dead Dutch artists - my beloved Rembrandt, and an exhibition of the work of Frans van Mieris.
If I wanted to avoid the rush hour it was now time to retrieve my pack and head for Dulles: by metro (covered by my day pass) and shuttle bus. Not only was the trip smooth and uncrowded, I arrived at Dulles early enough to score a window seat in the exit row. I found Dulles - terminal D, at least - cavernous and bleak. I was ready for Europe.
Sent from Ioannina, Greece, 5 April, 2006.
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