As the ambassador for Montgomery, I awoke early on our last day to finish working out details for our day and then found out that our bus would not be bringing us to the city of civil rights and Civil War history after all, due to a broken bearing. We waited on our bus for another charter bus to come pick us up from the side of the road in the middle of Florida. It was sad to say goodbye to Reuben, our bus driver and friend for the past 40 days, as we boarded the next bus that would take us to Nashville.
The abrupt ending to our journey brought mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was more than ready to see my friends and family, most of whom I had never gone 6 weeks without seeing. I was a tiny bit relieved to avoid one last stressful day of being ambassador, though I was also disappointed to miss a city that I had spent quite a bit of time researching and planning that seems so rich in history. Leaving the 11 people that I had spent 6 weeks with and had come to love was also bittersweet. I was ready for my own bed, but I would miss my cozy bunk. I was ready for a little bit of time to myself but I would miss always being around such great, fun people 24/7. Now that it is almost 2 weeks after we have returned home (yes, I’m a bit behind on my blogging… J) I still have bittersweet feelings. I am about to move into a new house and start a new semester with interesting classes. I have a lot to be excited about, but I catch myself all the time missing the thrill of traveling and seeing new things and being constantly intellectually challenged by those on the trip. This trip was, as Rashina put it, “beautiful, overwhelming and exhausting.” I'm still processing a lot of things that we saw and learned, and trying to figure out how to fit those things into my ideas about this nation.
I look forward to the next time I can travel around our crazy, confusing, wonderful and exciting country to see all of the many things that this first journey missed. I look forward to seeing Ken, Rashina, Chris, Elisabeth, Jenni, Cory, Pierce and Shirah soon at school. If Heather and Emily don’t come back to walk for graduation, then I insist on seeing them sometime within the next year. I’m excited to sign up for a class with Andi, who I did not know before this trip, whenever she comes back from her sabbatical. I look forward to continuing trying to expand my understanding of our country, its people, and what my role is as an American citizen. And I will always have incredible memories from this beautiful, overwhelming and exhausting experience.
Thank you for reading. I hope you found something here that opened your eyes or piqued your interest. Best wishes,
Emma
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
St. Augustine
For our first stop in St. Augustine, we went to the first Spanish fort in America. Being at that place and knowing that this was where the settlement of our country began (settlement, not discovery of our country- we seem to forget that minor detail that there were plenty of people inhabiting this land who definitely already knew "America" was here), was really interesting. It looked and felt ancient and filled with history, and yet at the same time, I couldn’t help remembering that even as old as that feels, our country is so much newer than most other nations, that we are still such a young country, and wonder how that affects our identity and telling of history.
We then went to the site of the first Spanish mission in America, Mission Nombre de Dios. Here we saw two interesting examples of one of the national debates of “Who is a Person” as outlined in Howard Fineman’s book “The Thirteen American Arguments.” In this chapter of his book, Fineman points to the debate over abortion as one of the key issues in examining who is considered a person. In the church graveyard of this Mission, there is a gravestone decorated with pacifiers for all of the babies that have been aborted since Roe v. Wade. Not that the Catholic church has ever been ambiguous about its stance on abortion, but I was still shocked to see this- they are so sure of the personhood of fetuses, they have actually erected a symbolic grave as if there would actually be something buried there.
The other, more disturbing example of the debate over who is a person is more subtly demonstrated in the representation of history of the relationship between the Native Americans who lived in Florida at the time of the Spanish arrival and the priests who evangelized to them. We saw in the display case in the gift shop a model of the Spanish arriving and dedicating the land to God. A small figure of a soldier is holding up a cross that is surrounded by rays of light. A couple of other soldiers stand around, in awe of the cross. Then there are multiple figures of Native American men dressed in loincloths, bowing down to the cross. Also in this gift shop is a charming little children’s story (note sarcasm) about the one Native American saint, who is a little girl who abandoned her family to go live with and work for the nearby Catholic community, after her mother dies suddenly from this strange disease called smallpox- wonder how that happened?? The book vilifies her other relatives for not wanting to allow her to go serve these Catholic priests and ends with praising this young girl, who died of an unnamed illness at age 20, for being brave enough to defy her people and leave to faithfully serve God’s servants. (Another highlight of this story is the description of this little girl’s appearance as her having, no joke, “dull red skin.”) So what does this communicate? That even in today’s children’s stories being provided in this tourist spot, we are saying these Native Americans are only worth anything, only considered people worthy of rights and dignity, when they bend to the Spanish Catholic culture and faith. What is told at this mission is a pretty little tale of conversion- missing from the story is the cost of this process.
We went to lunch at a hip little vegetarian place and then spent a pleasant afternoon on the beach, where the group all hung out for quite awhile, as it began to sink in that we didn’t have much time left to spend together. We showered at beautiful Flagler University and then enjoyed dinner in Old St. Augustine, a part of town that is full of restaurants and gift shops but still looks very Spanish, old and quaint. St. Augustine was another city that I had no idea what to expect from, but I feel like it would be worth a trip back to see beyond just the beach and the historic sites we saw to see what the city itself is really like.
We then went to the site of the first Spanish mission in America, Mission Nombre de Dios. Here we saw two interesting examples of one of the national debates of “Who is a Person” as outlined in Howard Fineman’s book “The Thirteen American Arguments.” In this chapter of his book, Fineman points to the debate over abortion as one of the key issues in examining who is considered a person. In the church graveyard of this Mission, there is a gravestone decorated with pacifiers for all of the babies that have been aborted since Roe v. Wade. Not that the Catholic church has ever been ambiguous about its stance on abortion, but I was still shocked to see this- they are so sure of the personhood of fetuses, they have actually erected a symbolic grave as if there would actually be something buried there.
The other, more disturbing example of the debate over who is a person is more subtly demonstrated in the representation of history of the relationship between the Native Americans who lived in Florida at the time of the Spanish arrival and the priests who evangelized to them. We saw in the display case in the gift shop a model of the Spanish arriving and dedicating the land to God. A small figure of a soldier is holding up a cross that is surrounded by rays of light. A couple of other soldiers stand around, in awe of the cross. Then there are multiple figures of Native American men dressed in loincloths, bowing down to the cross. Also in this gift shop is a charming little children’s story (note sarcasm) about the one Native American saint, who is a little girl who abandoned her family to go live with and work for the nearby Catholic community, after her mother dies suddenly from this strange disease called smallpox- wonder how that happened?? The book vilifies her other relatives for not wanting to allow her to go serve these Catholic priests and ends with praising this young girl, who died of an unnamed illness at age 20, for being brave enough to defy her people and leave to faithfully serve God’s servants. (Another highlight of this story is the description of this little girl’s appearance as her having, no joke, “dull red skin.”) So what does this communicate? That even in today’s children’s stories being provided in this tourist spot, we are saying these Native Americans are only worth anything, only considered people worthy of rights and dignity, when they bend to the Spanish Catholic culture and faith. What is told at this mission is a pretty little tale of conversion- missing from the story is the cost of this process.
We went to lunch at a hip little vegetarian place and then spent a pleasant afternoon on the beach, where the group all hung out for quite awhile, as it began to sink in that we didn’t have much time left to spend together. We showered at beautiful Flagler University and then enjoyed dinner in Old St. Augustine, a part of town that is full of restaurants and gift shops but still looks very Spanish, old and quaint. St. Augustine was another city that I had no idea what to expect from, but I feel like it would be worth a trip back to see beyond just the beach and the historic sites we saw to see what the city itself is really like.
Charleston
My first impression of Charleston was that it was beautiful but I wasn’t sure I’d survive a whole day in the oppressively hot humid weather. Our first stop was at Drayton Hall, the oldest preserved, not restored, plantation in the country. We received a very thorough explanation of everything in the house and the history of the families who lived there, from a sweet elderly lady who served as our tour guide and was obviously very passionate about her work. 
For lunch, we had some incredible food at a Gullah restaurant. For most of us, the only connection we had to the culture of the Gullah people of South Carolina was a children’s show called “Gullah Gullah Island”. The Gullah culture developed because all of the enslaved people that were brought to work on the Charleston plantations were from the same areas in West Africa. We were excited to learn more and experience the cuisine of this culture. One of the managers of the restaurant, a kind and funny woman named Keisha, had reserved a back room for us to view a video about traditional Gullah crafts while we ate from the buffet of traditional Gullah food. The food was amazing- I’ve enjoyed expanding my culinary horizons on this trip to include lots of organic, fresh vegetarian-friendly food, but at this point, any food that was cooked in greasy goodness and resembled down-home southern cooking was more than welcome. The best way I can think of to describe Gullah food is that it is similar to soul food but with an emphasis on seafood. We all filled our plates with foods like seafood casserole, collard greens, fish head soup, biscuits, and homemade candied yams. Keisha told us that they believe in making everything themselves, that all of their fruits or vegetables are homegrown and all the stews and sauces and such are made fresh daily. She told us that Gullah food was composed of foods that the slaves on plantations were able to scavenge from the fields and find in the waters of the area. I suppose I had never thought about how different kinds of food cultures can be determined by class. In the film “People Like Us” that we viewed as a part of the sociology class for this trip, one segment discusses how lower classes tend to embrace and strongly identify with the kind of food they are used to, the kind of food they can afford- like plain white bread- rather than food that is more expensive but might be better for them- like organic whole-wheat bread. Food becomes an important identifying factor for certain cultures and experiencing a meal of traditional cultural food enables an outsider to understand the history behind the culture a bit better.
After lunch, we went to a market downtown that used to be a market where slaves were sold and now serves as a mostly outdoor craft market. We took showers at the beautiful College of Charleston and then had a delicious seafood dinner with Pierce’s family. Dinner ended with a lovely surprise of cupcakes decorated with our trip’s logo that we all enjoyed with the Greenbergs. At this point it is Day 38 of our journey and we are all feeling the toll of it. We returned to the bus exhausted and drove on to what would be our last stop, St. Augustine.
Later in the day, we talked to an African-American woman who said one of her cousins recently got married on one of the older plantations in the area and some family members were appalled, and didn’t want to go. I thought that was so interesting, because it is hard to know how to feel about such beautiful land with such an ugly history. On the one hand, I can see how this woman’s family feels about never wanting to hold a celebration on the land that had seen such suffering for their ancestors. On the other hand, I can also see how it could be seen as a celebration of how far our country has come that this young woman is able to have that choice at all, and to make her peace with a place like that.
For lunch, we had some incredible food at a Gullah restaurant. For most of us, the only connection we had to the culture of the Gullah people of South Carolina was a children’s show called “Gullah Gullah Island”. The Gullah culture developed because all of the enslaved people that were brought to work on the Charleston plantations were from the same areas in West Africa. We were excited to learn more and experience the cuisine of this culture. One of the managers of the restaurant, a kind and funny woman named Keisha, had reserved a back room for us to view a video about traditional Gullah crafts while we ate from the buffet of traditional Gullah food. The food was amazing- I’ve enjoyed expanding my culinary horizons on this trip to include lots of organic, fresh vegetarian-friendly food, but at this point, any food that was cooked in greasy goodness and resembled down-home southern cooking was more than welcome. The best way I can think of to describe Gullah food is that it is similar to soul food but with an emphasis on seafood. We all filled our plates with foods like seafood casserole, collard greens, fish head soup, biscuits, and homemade candied yams. Keisha told us that they believe in making everything themselves, that all of their fruits or vegetables are homegrown and all the stews and sauces and such are made fresh daily. She told us that Gullah food was composed of foods that the slaves on plantations were able to scavenge from the fields and find in the waters of the area. I suppose I had never thought about how different kinds of food cultures can be determined by class. In the film “People Like Us” that we viewed as a part of the sociology class for this trip, one segment discusses how lower classes tend to embrace and strongly identify with the kind of food they are used to, the kind of food they can afford- like plain white bread- rather than food that is more expensive but might be better for them- like organic whole-wheat bread. Food becomes an important identifying factor for certain cultures and experiencing a meal of traditional cultural food enables an outsider to understand the history behind the culture a bit better.
After lunch, we went to a market downtown that used to be a market where slaves were sold and now serves as a mostly outdoor craft market. We took showers at the beautiful College of Charleston and then had a delicious seafood dinner with Pierce’s family. Dinner ended with a lovely surprise of cupcakes decorated with our trip’s logo that we all enjoyed with the Greenbergs. At this point it is Day 38 of our journey and we are all feeling the toll of it. We returned to the bus exhausted and drove on to what would be our last stop, St. Augustine.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Washington D.C.- part of Day 2 and Day 3
As it was nearing the end of our second day, a few of us hung out on the Mall at sunset. We had been really busy in D.C. until that point and I knew that we would not be down here again tomorrow, our last day in D.C., so this was my last chance to go see the memorials. I’d never been to D.C. and I knew I couldn’t leave without seeing the Lincoln Memorial. I convinced Elisabeth and Rashina to tag along with me and we set out right at dusk. We saw the Washington Monument and were a little confused as to what it was really trying to say. How exactly was this a tribute to Washington? It’s impressive, but I’m not sure I really get it. Then we walked down to the WWII memorial, which is absolutely beautiful at night. I loved this memorial- I thought it did a beautiful job of commemorating our role in the war and the soldiers that our country lost. We started the trek towards the Lincoln Memorial.
When we got there, I was in awe- there have been many instances on this trip that I have found something to be less impressive in real life that I had been expecting, but this was not one of them. The statue of Lincoln, and the entire classical temple surrounding it, was much bigger than I’d been expecting. I wandered over to the side to read Lincoln’s second inaugural address and then over to the Gettysburg address. I didn’t expect it at all, but I had chills and was holding back tears. They are truly beautiful speeches that so eloquently yet simply capture the tragedy of the Civil War and its consequences. And to imagine someone murdering this epic figure that had written these words- I cannot fathom it. Though as Sarah Vowell says in Assassination Vacation, once you understand more about the volatile years of the Civil War, one shouldn’t be surprised that Lincoln didn’t finish his second term but rather be grateful that he made it through his first.
So as Rashina and I are standing there reading these monumental words, we are distracted by the antics of some teenagers walking past us, practically yelling and joking around with each other. As I start to pay attention to others around us, I was shocked and disgusted by the general atmosphere. People of all ages were checking their cell phones, laughing and yelling, taking goofy pictures in front of the statue- this kind of behavior in a place that is a memorial, a memorial for someone who died, a memorial for one of the greatest figures in our nation’s history who was murdered and commemorated here. We had to leave because both of us were about to lose it. This was a perfect example of how our country proclaims patriotism but it is often a false and empty patriotism. Obviously, not everyone at the memorial was behaving in such an appalling manner, but the fact that we had to leave because it was too noisy to talk shows something indeed about the level of respect many had for the place. We claim Lincoln as one of the greatest presidents ever and a symbol of hope, courage and equality…and then in the subway station, we see a figure of the white Lincoln statue in an ad for Busch Gardens where he is wearing a scuba mask and suntan lotion on his nose. Are we going to revere him or mock him? Let’s make up our minds.
However, escaping from the Lincoln Memorial to the Vietnam Veterans memorial didn’t offer any more restoration of our faith in the American people’s reverence. As we walked along Maya Lin’s beautiful memorial wall reading the names of the thousands and thousand of soldiers that died in Vietnam, we listened to the people behind us jabber on about a friend’s wedding plans and even as one of them exclaimed “whoa, that’s a funny name,” in reference to a soldier’s name. It honestly made me a little sick to my stomach, seeing the complete lack of respect for this memorial that remembers people with friends, family and lives who gave all that up to fight a war for their country. We left feeling discouraged and angry. As we were walking home though, we ended up stopping to talk to a security guard and had an amazing hour-long conversation with him, just on the side of the road, about what it means to him to be an American, and his thoughts about America today. Another amazing, memorable chance encounter that will stay with me for a long time.
Our third and final day in D.C. was more on the relaxing side. We went to Alexandria for the town’s 260th birthday celebration, only to be rained out before the festivities really began. We enjoyed walking around the “old town” area though, to see how this town combines its identities of an old historic place with the needs of its trendy, upper-tax-bracket residents. After we returned to our bus, a few of us went out to explore D.C. nightlife. More on that later as well. All in all, I thought we had a great, busy stay in our nation’s capital and I look forward to returning there to see what else D.C. has to offer because I feel like we barely scratched the surface.
When we got there, I was in awe- there have been many instances on this trip that I have found something to be less impressive in real life that I had been expecting, but this was not one of them. The statue of Lincoln, and the entire classical temple surrounding it, was much bigger than I’d been expecting. I wandered over to the side to read Lincoln’s second inaugural address and then over to the Gettysburg address. I didn’t expect it at all, but I had chills and was holding back tears. They are truly beautiful speeches that so eloquently yet simply capture the tragedy of the Civil War and its consequences. And to imagine someone murdering this epic figure that had written these words- I cannot fathom it. Though as Sarah Vowell says in Assassination Vacation, once you understand more about the volatile years of the Civil War, one shouldn’t be surprised that Lincoln didn’t finish his second term but rather be grateful that he made it through his first.
So as Rashina and I are standing there reading these monumental words, we are distracted by the antics of some teenagers walking past us, practically yelling and joking around with each other. As I start to pay attention to others around us, I was shocked and disgusted by the general atmosphere. People of all ages were checking their cell phones, laughing and yelling, taking goofy pictures in front of the statue- this kind of behavior in a place that is a memorial, a memorial for someone who died, a memorial for one of the greatest figures in our nation’s history who was murdered and commemorated here. We had to leave because both of us were about to lose it. This was a perfect example of how our country proclaims patriotism but it is often a false and empty patriotism. Obviously, not everyone at the memorial was behaving in such an appalling manner, but the fact that we had to leave because it was too noisy to talk shows something indeed about the level of respect many had for the place. We claim Lincoln as one of the greatest presidents ever and a symbol of hope, courage and equality…and then in the subway station, we see a figure of the white Lincoln statue in an ad for Busch Gardens where he is wearing a scuba mask and suntan lotion on his nose. Are we going to revere him or mock him? Let’s make up our minds.
However, escaping from the Lincoln Memorial to the Vietnam Veterans memorial didn’t offer any more restoration of our faith in the American people’s reverence. As we walked along Maya Lin’s beautiful memorial wall reading the names of the thousands and thousand of soldiers that died in Vietnam, we listened to the people behind us jabber on about a friend’s wedding plans and even as one of them exclaimed “whoa, that’s a funny name,” in reference to a soldier’s name. It honestly made me a little sick to my stomach, seeing the complete lack of respect for this memorial that remembers people with friends, family and lives who gave all that up to fight a war for their country. We left feeling discouraged and angry. As we were walking home though, we ended up stopping to talk to a security guard and had an amazing hour-long conversation with him, just on the side of the road, about what it means to him to be an American, and his thoughts about America today. Another amazing, memorable chance encounter that will stay with me for a long time.
Our third and final day in D.C. was more on the relaxing side. We went to Alexandria for the town’s 260th birthday celebration, only to be rained out before the festivities really began. We enjoyed walking around the “old town” area though, to see how this town combines its identities of an old historic place with the needs of its trendy, upper-tax-bracket residents. After we returned to our bus, a few of us went out to explore D.C. nightlife. More on that later as well. All in all, I thought we had a great, busy stay in our nation’s capital and I look forward to returning there to see what else D.C. has to offer because I feel like we barely scratched the surface.
Washington D.C.- Day 1 and part of Day 2
As the ambassador for D.C., I had begun to wonder what I had gotten myself into- taking responsibility for what is advertised as the center of American government and history. On top of that, I wanted to try and get a taste for what the actual identity of D.C. itself was as well as balancing the national history aspect of the city.
Our first stop was a visit with Representative Jim Cooper, the congressman for the district that Belmont is in. I had expected, having made this appointment months ago, that we would have at least half an hour to speak with Cooper, but unfortunately he had literally only 3 minutes to give us after we introduced ourselves. Though the visit was short-lived, I’m glad we got a somewhat behind-the-scenes look at political life in D.C.
At lunch, Rashina, Chris, Elisabeth, Shirah and I had an incredible experience meeting someone new, someone that I will remember as one of the best memories from this trip. I will elaborate on this encounter at a later date.
In the afternoon, we visited the Library of Congress and walked around the Mall a bit. At the Library of Congress, I was confused by some of their exhibits. On the one hand, some of their exhibits seemed to represent a thorough telling of history, the good, the bad and the ugly (though a lot more of the former than the two latter). But then in the same exhibit about the founding of our country, there was a plaque that insisted that America was founded on the principle that all people were created equal, no matter what race. I’m not sure how they justify this blatant misrepresentation of truth, but I was surprised to see such a bold, untrue statement in there.
Something that we all agreed on about the general feel of D.C., especially the fact that all the museums are easily accessible, free and open to the public, is that it held the right role for our nation’s capital. It allows the public easy access to knowledge and education about our history and there is little to no infringement of businesses or fast food places around the Mall area.
Early on our second day in D.C., we had a scheduled tour of the Capitol. I was under the impression that we would be getting a private tour, but alas, we were herded like sheep through the crowded public tour- listening with headphones to our live guide standing in front of us. All in all, I found it to be a beautiful, impressive building that was not particularly visitor-friendly at all.
For lunch, we took the train up to the U Street Corridor, which is a traditionally African-American neighborhood known as one of the birthplaces of jazz, and ate at the famous Ben’s Chili Bowl. This is a place that served as neutral middle-ground after riots ensued following the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I thought it was delicious and worth the wait in line that was out the door when we got there.
After lunch, we met up with a reporter for the Washington Post who interviewed a few of us for the Travel section, which was really exciting. We then visited the Holocaust Museum (which unfortunately, had sold out of tickets to the permanent exhibit for the day by the time we got there) where we able to see some really interesting temporary exhibits. Most of the group then headed over to the Smithsonian Museum of American History.
I felt that this museum was extremely important to visit on a trip examining American identity, because the Smithsonians are held up as the standard for history museums. So a museum in our nation’s capital telling the history of our country- I couldn’t pass this up. Unfortunately I was only able to stay for a couple of hours, but I found everything I saw absolutely fascinating. One of my favorite exhibits, which I thought was very well done, was about the American presidency.
It talked about how the current president is the center of our common political culture and is often seen as a heroic figure, at least to some. The president serves as a nation’s moral compass and a reflection of the national mood. One interesting part of the display spoke about how products have used presidential images in advertising because putting a picture of a president on your product communicates progress, optimism and achievement. Something that I had never considered about the unique role of an American president compared to other democratic leaders is that because America is viewed as a nation of immigrants with ties to countries all around the world, maintaining good diplomatic ties is even more important for our country. Another part of the exhibit talked about how seemingly trivial events that the president takes part in, like parades, visiting school classrooms and lighting the White House Christmas tree all serve the purpose of connecting him (/her) to the American people.
I thought it was really interesting that the only presidents profiled in this exhibit were those who were recent, assassinated, died in office, or involved in scandal. Some of the names on the presidency timeline I barely even recognized, much less could I tell you what they did while in office. Sarah Vowell in her book Assassination Vacation talks about that in reference to McKinley and Garfield- even though they were assassinated, so they received an exhibit in this museum, people hardly know a thing about what they accomplished while they were in office and their deaths are often overlooked in light of the assassinations of more charismatic presidents, like Lincoln or Kennedy. The role of an American president is much more complex than we often realize, which is what this exhibit really pointed out. Even those presidents who might not have accomplished anything great or memorable in office ought to deserve some credit- at least a place in our history lessons- for being elected and holding office at all.
Our first stop was a visit with Representative Jim Cooper, the congressman for the district that Belmont is in. I had expected, having made this appointment months ago, that we would have at least half an hour to speak with Cooper, but unfortunately he had literally only 3 minutes to give us after we introduced ourselves. Though the visit was short-lived, I’m glad we got a somewhat behind-the-scenes look at political life in D.C.
At lunch, Rashina, Chris, Elisabeth, Shirah and I had an incredible experience meeting someone new, someone that I will remember as one of the best memories from this trip. I will elaborate on this encounter at a later date.
In the afternoon, we visited the Library of Congress and walked around the Mall a bit. At the Library of Congress, I was confused by some of their exhibits. On the one hand, some of their exhibits seemed to represent a thorough telling of history, the good, the bad and the ugly (though a lot more of the former than the two latter). But then in the same exhibit about the founding of our country, there was a plaque that insisted that America was founded on the principle that all people were created equal, no matter what race. I’m not sure how they justify this blatant misrepresentation of truth, but I was surprised to see such a bold, untrue statement in there.
Something that we all agreed on about the general feel of D.C., especially the fact that all the museums are easily accessible, free and open to the public, is that it held the right role for our nation’s capital. It allows the public easy access to knowledge and education about our history and there is little to no infringement of businesses or fast food places around the Mall area.
Early on our second day in D.C., we had a scheduled tour of the Capitol. I was under the impression that we would be getting a private tour, but alas, we were herded like sheep through the crowded public tour- listening with headphones to our live guide standing in front of us. All in all, I found it to be a beautiful, impressive building that was not particularly visitor-friendly at all.
For lunch, we took the train up to the U Street Corridor, which is a traditionally African-American neighborhood known as one of the birthplaces of jazz, and ate at the famous Ben’s Chili Bowl. This is a place that served as neutral middle-ground after riots ensued following the death of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I thought it was delicious and worth the wait in line that was out the door when we got there.
After lunch, we met up with a reporter for the Washington Post who interviewed a few of us for the Travel section, which was really exciting. We then visited the Holocaust Museum (which unfortunately, had sold out of tickets to the permanent exhibit for the day by the time we got there) where we able to see some really interesting temporary exhibits. Most of the group then headed over to the Smithsonian Museum of American History.
I felt that this museum was extremely important to visit on a trip examining American identity, because the Smithsonians are held up as the standard for history museums. So a museum in our nation’s capital telling the history of our country- I couldn’t pass this up. Unfortunately I was only able to stay for a couple of hours, but I found everything I saw absolutely fascinating. One of my favorite exhibits, which I thought was very well done, was about the American presidency.
It talked about how the current president is the center of our common political culture and is often seen as a heroic figure, at least to some. The president serves as a nation’s moral compass and a reflection of the national mood. One interesting part of the display spoke about how products have used presidential images in advertising because putting a picture of a president on your product communicates progress, optimism and achievement. Something that I had never considered about the unique role of an American president compared to other democratic leaders is that because America is viewed as a nation of immigrants with ties to countries all around the world, maintaining good diplomatic ties is even more important for our country. Another part of the exhibit talked about how seemingly trivial events that the president takes part in, like parades, visiting school classrooms and lighting the White House Christmas tree all serve the purpose of connecting him (/her) to the American people.
I thought it was really interesting that the only presidents profiled in this exhibit were those who were recent, assassinated, died in office, or involved in scandal. Some of the names on the presidency timeline I barely even recognized, much less could I tell you what they did while in office. Sarah Vowell in her book Assassination Vacation talks about that in reference to McKinley and Garfield- even though they were assassinated, so they received an exhibit in this museum, people hardly know a thing about what they accomplished while they were in office and their deaths are often overlooked in light of the assassinations of more charismatic presidents, like Lincoln or Kennedy. The role of an American president is much more complex than we often realize, which is what this exhibit really pointed out. Even those presidents who might not have accomplished anything great or memorable in office ought to deserve some credit- at least a place in our history lessons- for being elected and holding office at all.
Our Philadelphia Story
Our first stop was the Liberty Bell, where we met up with two different reporters doing stories on our trip. I had no idea how important of a symbol the Liberty Bell was, or how it used to be (and still is to some degree) considered a “site of pilgrimage.” In the Revolutionary War, the colonists even sunk the bell in a river to prevent the British from defiling this precious sign of freedom. Abolitionists in the 1830s adopted the bell as their symbol; it was used a symbol to encourage reunification after the Civil War; the women’s suffrage movement and the civil rights movement used it to symbolize their efforts fighting for equal rights and freedom for all.
As I was reading the exhibits about how the Liberty Bell has been adopted as a symbol for these different causes, I witnessed another example of how sometimes history’s important stories go unheard. I saw a group of young African-American girls that appeared to be in a camp group run over to where I was standing, between the women’s rights exhibit and the civil rights exhibit. They excitedly asked their counselor to take their picture with the large of photo of Martin Luther King, Jr. and ran off, never having given a second look to the women’s suffrage exhibit with the picture of Susan B. Anthony, even though as young African-American girls, both of those histories are important for them. It made me think of how certain parts of our history are given more credit- I know I learned about Dr. King and Rosa Parks probably every year of my education, but I think women’s suffrage was maybe one day’s lesson plan in 8th grade. I still don’t know that I’d recognize a picture of Susan B. Anthony or any of the other suffragists outside of a labeled museum exhibit.
Seeing the Liberty Bell made me think of what the word liberty means. Liberty is defined as “autonomy; immunity from arbitrary exercise of authority; political independence.” One of the phrases from the preamble to our Constitution is to “secure the blessings of liberty…”. That is one of the tasks adopted by “we the people” in writing the Constitution. What exactly does this mean? I would say that we have seen examples of people trying to preserve the blessings of liberty in several places: the exhibits about Central High School, the Navajo government offices when they spoke of trying to make their own rules for the education of their children, the Alamo where we heard about a few soldiers’ fight for independence, in Boston along the Freedom Trail, and in the answers of people across the country when we asked them what it means to be American and they responded that it means to be free to decide how our government is run and to have the right to live your life the way you choose as long as you are not causing harm to others. Then again, we heard lots of people expressing concern that the current administration is infringing on personal liberty and will continue to do so. I suppose depending on who you ask, you will get different definitions of the balance between governmental services and personal liberty. But judging by the people we spoke with at the museum displaying the bell, the Liberty Bell continues to stand as a symbol for those in the past who fought for America’s independence and a beacon of hope that our country will continue to be a nation that values that.
We had lunch at the Reading Market, which had a bunch of different ethnic food vendors and also several shops selling Amish wares. I had my first official Philly cheese steak and it was delicious. We walked around the city and saw Love Park and the beautiful old city hall, where we had a class discussion. Then we traveled to North Philadelphia, the Kensington neighborhood area, to meet with the leaders and participants of a Christian organization called Mission Year, which enables college-age people to live in impoverished communities, like North Philly, and do volunteer work within the community. It was really interesting to hear their perspectives on this other part of the city that most visitors rarely venture into. They welcomed us into their home office, had dinner with us and spent several hours talking with us about the time they had spent in Philadelphia. We all had a really nice time and returned late to the bus to head towards our next stop- the nation’s capital.
As I was reading the exhibits about how the Liberty Bell has been adopted as a symbol for these different causes, I witnessed another example of how sometimes history’s important stories go unheard. I saw a group of young African-American girls that appeared to be in a camp group run over to where I was standing, between the women’s rights exhibit and the civil rights exhibit. They excitedly asked their counselor to take their picture with the large of photo of Martin Luther King, Jr. and ran off, never having given a second look to the women’s suffrage exhibit with the picture of Susan B. Anthony, even though as young African-American girls, both of those histories are important for them. It made me think of how certain parts of our history are given more credit- I know I learned about Dr. King and Rosa Parks probably every year of my education, but I think women’s suffrage was maybe one day’s lesson plan in 8th grade. I still don’t know that I’d recognize a picture of Susan B. Anthony or any of the other suffragists outside of a labeled museum exhibit.
Seeing the Liberty Bell made me think of what the word liberty means. Liberty is defined as “autonomy; immunity from arbitrary exercise of authority; political independence.” One of the phrases from the preamble to our Constitution is to “secure the blessings of liberty…”. That is one of the tasks adopted by “we the people” in writing the Constitution. What exactly does this mean? I would say that we have seen examples of people trying to preserve the blessings of liberty in several places: the exhibits about Central High School, the Navajo government offices when they spoke of trying to make their own rules for the education of their children, the Alamo where we heard about a few soldiers’ fight for independence, in Boston along the Freedom Trail, and in the answers of people across the country when we asked them what it means to be American and they responded that it means to be free to decide how our government is run and to have the right to live your life the way you choose as long as you are not causing harm to others. Then again, we heard lots of people expressing concern that the current administration is infringing on personal liberty and will continue to do so. I suppose depending on who you ask, you will get different definitions of the balance between governmental services and personal liberty. But judging by the people we spoke with at the museum displaying the bell, the Liberty Bell continues to stand as a symbol for those in the past who fought for America’s independence and a beacon of hope that our country will continue to be a nation that values that.
We had lunch at the Reading Market, which had a bunch of different ethnic food vendors and also several shops selling Amish wares. I had my first official Philly cheese steak and it was delicious. We walked around the city and saw Love Park and the beautiful old city hall, where we had a class discussion. Then we traveled to North Philadelphia, the Kensington neighborhood area, to meet with the leaders and participants of a Christian organization called Mission Year, which enables college-age people to live in impoverished communities, like North Philly, and do volunteer work within the community. It was really interesting to hear their perspectives on this other part of the city that most visitors rarely venture into. They welcomed us into their home office, had dinner with us and spent several hours talking with us about the time they had spent in Philadelphia. We all had a really nice time and returned late to the bus to head towards our next stop- the nation’s capital.
New York, New York
“I want to wake up in a city that doesn’t sleep…”- which is exactly what we did, or rather, we woke up in New Jersey, a bus ride away from the city that never sleeps. Our three days were action-packed, so I’ll have to pick out just a couple of highlights.
Day 1
Our first stop in New York was the quintessential American tourist destination- the Statue of Liberty. Then we took the ferry from the island where the statue is to Ellis Island. This was one of my very favorite activities we took part in. Plenty of historical tourist destinations try to recreate some version of the idea that you can “feel” the history of the place, and most times I think it’s just wishful thinking, but with Ellis Island, it was different. I don’t know about the rest of our group, but I did have this eerie feeling the entire time we were there, thinking about how this place determined the destiny of so many of today’s American citizens, including my own. I had ancestors come through Ellis Island from Germany in the late 1700s- had they not been allowed into America, I would not be here. My favorite part of this museum was a photo exhibit from the time that Ellis Island stood empty from 1954 to sometime in the late 1980s when it began to be restored as a museum. The photos that some photographers who simply came exploring this empty building on their own during the 30 year vacancy are so eerie in a way I can’t quite explain. The idea that this building witnessed over 12 million immigrants coming through, some of them being welcomed into the country and some of them being turned away for unknowingly possessing some “undesirable” characteristic as determined by our government, and then it was simply abandoned, left to rot- the pictures of relics left behind, the little signs in a desolate building that once it was a bustling center of hopes and dreams…I wish I could have been one of the people to come before it was restored and see that for myself.
Day 1
Our first stop in New York was the quintessential American tourist destination- the Statue of Liberty. Then we took the ferry from the island where the statue is to Ellis Island. This was one of my very favorite activities we took part in. Plenty of historical tourist destinations try to recreate some version of the idea that you can “feel” the history of the place, and most times I think it’s just wishful thinking, but with Ellis Island, it was different. I don’t know about the rest of our group, but I did have this eerie feeling the entire time we were there, thinking about how this place determined the destiny of so many of today’s American citizens, including my own. I had ancestors come through Ellis Island from Germany in the late 1700s- had they not been allowed into America, I would not be here. My favorite part of this museum was a photo exhibit from the time that Ellis Island stood empty from 1954 to sometime in the late 1980s when it began to be restored as a museum. The photos that some photographers who simply came exploring this empty building on their own during the 30 year vacancy are so eerie in a way I can’t quite explain. The idea that this building witnessed over 12 million immigrants coming through, some of them being welcomed into the country and some of them being turned away for unknowingly possessing some “undesirable” characteristic as determined by our government, and then it was simply abandoned, left to rot- the pictures of relics left behind, the little signs in a desolate building that once it was a bustling center of hopes and dreams…I wish I could have been one of the people to come before it was restored and see that for myself.
We got on the ferry to go back to the city and split into groups. My group went to hang out in Central Park, which was swarming with people enjoying the beautiful weather. We spent a couple of hours here, but my favorite part was when we stumbled across a skating dance party. There were probably 75-100 people of all different ages, races, shapes and sizes all roller-skating and dancing together to music blasting out of speakers someone had set up. This struck me as one of the perks of living in a big city- when would you ever see something like this in the suburbs or small towns? We ate dinner at a Jewish deli and headed back towards our bus, taking a quick detour to Times Square.
In Times Square, we stopped to talk to a few interesting characters, including some young teen girls that were holding signs saying they were giving out free hugs and a young Russian girl dressed as the statue of liberty. However, my favorite conversation of the night was with a Colombian man probably in his early ‘30s who I am pretty sure was gay. He had asked us to take a picture of his friend and him in front of the classic Times Square background, and then laughingly asked someone else to take a picture with all of him and us. He was so excited to be in New York, and we started to ask him what it meant to be an American. He told us that he was going to be an official citizen very soon, he had been taking classes to pass the citizenship test and he couldn’t wait to be able to call himself an American. He talked about how in Colombia he was not accepted for who he was (which I am guessing means that his lifestyle as a homosexual wasn’t accepted, but I don’t know for sure) but then he came to America and there are so many different kinds of people here, especially in cities and that he felt like in America he could be whoever he wanted to be. He came right out and said that he already felt like an American and he was prouder than we were, having lived here all of our lives, because he knew how hard life could be somewhere else and here he felt accepted for the first time. All of us agreed after talking to this excited patriotic almost-citizen that it made us feel proud of our country, that no matter what issues people might have in specific regions of the county with discrimination, it seemed that as a whole America is viewed as a place where you can live the life you want.
Day 2
Our second volunteer project for our trip was working in a furniture store for the recently homeless in Brooklyn. We all had fun as we sat together on the warehouse floor trying to assemble various types of furniture, and afterwards we ate lunch at a great little New York style pizza joint down the road. We explored on our own for a while in the afternoon, and a few of us ended up going to a comedy club at night, which was really fun.
Day 3
I started and ended our day with feeling starkly out of place. Our day began with a group lunch at this upscale trendy sushi restaurant in Greenwich Village. At first, I thought the fact that there was no sign for this restaurant (we only found it because we looked in the window of this basement and noticed it was a restaurant) was a sign that it would be really authentic, a place just for locals. Now I think the lack of advertising may have been more a mark of exclusivity. The waitress was smug when I asked about something on the menu I didn’t recognize and I unknowingly paid $10 for a mere 4 pieces of sushi. Oh well. After our pricey lunch, we went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which absolutely blew me away. I have to go back to New York and spend all day there sometime. Rashina, Elisabeth and I got coffee and sat in this little shaded church courtyard for quite awhile, enjoying a respite from the busy city atmosphere. We had dinner in a little diner that was reminiscent of the diner in Seinfeld, along with an adorably grumpy old waiter. Then Chris met up with us and we all took the subway forever away to the Bronx, where we went to a community salsa concert in the local park. It was extremely difficult to find our way there- guess why? The Bronx isn’t on the city maps that are provided in the subway. What does this say to visitors about one of the poorest areas in the city? Anyway, we arrived at the salsa show to find out, not surprisingly, that we stuck out. On our way back to the subway, we heard some interesting commentary about how we stuck out from some of the locals. We took the train from the Bronx to Grand Central Station, and that ride was interesting to say the least. As we went from stop to stop, you could see the social demographics changing in a number of ways. As we were leaving the Bronx, a young man who may have been homeless came through our train asking for money and food, saying that he was hungry and just wanted a little help. A few people offered up a couple of dollars and he thanked them and proceeded on through other parts of the train. By the time he came back through, we were further into the heart of the city and there were new people on our car. We watched as he came through and repeated his plea. The lady with her Saks 5th Avenue bag uncomfortably averted her eyes. Another lady listened to his request for food, proceeds to pull out a granola bar from her purse…. and eat it herself, in front of him.
We hung out in Grand Central Station for a bit, observing how even here we looked out of place among the rush of busy young professionals in their suits, even though it was about 8 at night. We returned to the bus with a new perspective on the many faces of New York City.
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