On outer Cape Cod where I live there is the summer tourist season, when every business has more than they can handle, the fall “tour-bus” season, which some businesses stay open to accommodate, and the off-season when any discussion of where to go starts with, “What’s open?”
I’ve grown used to the limitations that go with living year round in a summer vacation destination, but I didn’t expect to find the same problem on a recent visit to Washington DC which happened to coincide with the first day of the government shutdown.
All the places I’d hoped to visit—the National Gallery, the World War II Memorial, the Holocaust Museum, the National Arboretum—were closed, so I said to myself, I need to do what I do all winter—direct my attention to what’s open.
Ironically, the obstacles and barriers to accessing places had become a gateway to a different kind of enrichment—real conversations with local people.
The National Mall was eerily quiet without its usual throng of foreign visitors, protesters, joggers, bikers, tourists lounging on the grass to rest their tired feet. Passing the silent carousel, the boarded-up refreshment stand, the barriers blocking access to the Capitol building, I felt sad and solemn, a bit as if I were attending a wake. The city, normally so vibrant and full of life, was flat and empty and I felt a loss because I’d come there to absorb its energy, to recharge my batteries with learning, art and new experiences. I was surrounded by all those places where I’d planned to “plug in” but was not allowed to enter them!
Yet a city is more than its museums and memorials. It is made up of the people who live and work there and the possibility of making real connections with them is often heightened by unusual circumstances.
At the Newseum, which was unaffected by the shutdown, I told the guard who scanned my ticket I was glad we’d been able to get in since they appeared to be the only game in town. He told me that the World War II Veterans who had been barred from the memorial honoring them had just left and then he shared his opinion on the current state of affairs. When I came back the next day (my ticket was good for two), he was there at his post and remembered me from the day before. Our brief banter made me feel as if I were more than just another inconvenienced tourist.
Later, as I rested on a bench in the Ripley Memorial garden, flipping through the pages of a guidebook to try to figure out what to do next, a middle-aged man wearing a lanyard with an SEC security pass approached me. Again I had an unexpected opportunity for an interesting discussion. We talked about the shutdown and he told me about the Corcoran Gallery and the Phillips Collection, a couple of private museums I might enjoy.
On my last night, too tired to venture far, I decided to have dinner in the Eastern Market area where I was staying. It was Friday night and the restaurants were overflowing, all except Pain Quotidien, which is known in the neighborhood more as breakfast and lunch place.
I took a table outdoors on the patio and became my waitress’ only customer. By the time she delivered my check we were on a first-name basis. Samantha was a pre-med student at Howard University from Bedford, Indiana, just the kind of committed, energetic young person that makes you hopeful for the future no matter what political shenanigans are going on.
Ironically, the obstacles and barriers to accessing places had become a gateway to a different kind of enrichment—real conversations with local people. An unexpected change in my travel plans provided the opportunity for satisfying interpersonal encounters after I made the choice to see and hear what was there instead of bemoaning what was missing.
Hi Bev,
I so enjoy your positive outlook on what could have been seen as a disaster to your intended vacation/visit to D.C.!! And how wonderful to connect on a personal level with those you encountered.
Last week we traveled to Bar Harbor Maine with intentions to visit Acadia National Park. We parked our car on public roads at the barricades to the entrances and walked into the park. Although I’ve never been an “activist” or participated in marches or sit-ins, I felt justified entering a closed government run operation – we didn’t cancel our plans (which we heard many people did) and in turn helped contribute to the local economy who depend upon the national park and these few weeks in October as the finale to their season. We got lots of good exercise and time outdoors in nature and enjoyed not having to dodge cars on the park roads. And somehow it felt “victorious” to not let the political shenanigans in D.C. ruin our vacation.
@Donna Buonopane, Thank you for sharing your experience as a quiet protestor. I hope we also have become aware of all the good things our government does like maintain national parks! Bev
Your article really demonstrates looking at a cup half-full – not half empty. You turned what some people would have thought disaster into success. Nice!
@Joy Potter, I spent may years creating disasters in my head and am beginning to see how freeing it can be to simply be with what is…
Hi Bev~ What a great article to read & hear about all the turn arounds that you benefited from even though things had a different twist then planned. It’s nice that one has the choice to turn a situation into such a positive one & be so aware of it!! Thanks for sharing!!!
@Bindy, Attitude is everything. So grateful for having that response become more of a default setting.
Bev: so glad that you shared your experience from this perspective. Of course you would find a way to make the best of a less than ideal situation.
@Terri Mead, I look forward to doing the same on our trip to Europe in May. Your travels have inspired me.
Beverly, what you did with this situation, reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from Marcel Proust, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”
@Kay Ryle, Oh, yes…thank you for reminding me of that wonderful quote…