[Fair warning: I'm compiling these from cryptic bullet points, on the plane back to Europe, with a huge Italian dude occasionally reading over my shoulder]
The flight was long, but pretty uneventful. At the Frankfurt airport, my innate authority phobia kicked in, and when asked if I had purchased anything, I blurted out "A bagel..." and then added guiltily "...but I ate it." The official maintained his composure admirably. I watched Wall-E (the tiny, shitty in-flight entertainment screen REALLY did it justice. Sigh.) And that's about it.
The moment we arrived in Washington, I entered a state of permanent, low-level anxiety. I think the light went off when we were waiting in line to be cleared by the Department of Immigration, and had to endure a looped video of mind boggling American propaganda. Normally this would be cause for delight and mockery, but everyone around us reined themselves in after the initial burst of giggles, all too aware that the immigration officer can send your ass back wherever pretty much on a whim. To illustrate how arbitrary the whole process is: my guy, a weary, matter-of-fact African-American gentleman, asked me but two questions and gave me a June departure deadline, while Ana got grilled on how she met Bohdan (Oh, it's an epic tale of romance and adventure...) and was kindly asked to leave by February.
I don't think I ever shook off this weird guardedness. Don't take the kid's picture. Don't talk about race. Try not to do accents. It was all the more surreal since back home my circle of friends is notorious for its lack of political correctness, so my auto-censorship module is pretty rusty. We ended up just using Polish whenever discussing potentially inflammatory subjects. It turned out to be a surprisingly engaging exercise, since we've gotten so used to interspersing it with English expressions.
I remember the taxi driver being Indian (or Pakistani, I've no way of knowing, being a former Commie), and that was the case every time we took a cab, so it really is some sort of national (regional?) monopoly. At night, the outskirts of Washington seemed almost European (by which I mean: generic). Though maybe I was merely projecting, cause I remember being strangely comforted by the sight of a Siemens neon sign. It only registered with me that I'm actually on the other side of the pond, when I heard police sirens. It might sound naive, but to me sirens have really become the soundtrack of Washington. I've never heard so many in my life. And while in Poland they almost always signal the approach of an ambulance, here it was usually police cars. Even if you adjust for cavalcades, that's still pretty freaky.
Bohdan greeted us with open arms, declaring that I'll have to sleep on a wooden pillow* and cover myself with a towel (he told Ana to bring a sleeping bag, but neglected to CC me with that particular piece of information). It was kind of cold, so I finally got to feel like a scout. And now I know why I decided to miss out on that experience.
The next morning we walked him to work and set out to conquer the Mall of America. I have to admit I've no ide
a why it's called that (or even if it's the official name), but that's exactly what it is - all the national landmarks conveniently clustered in one area. We took the requisite Capitol, White House, and Washington Monument pictures, and paid a visit to Lincoln, but I was excited the most by the discovery of the Ordoss Embassy (pictured left). Then we picked Bohdan up from the library and went home to get ready to go to a gay sports bar (yeah, that's not a joke), where one of his co-workers was having a birthday party.
to be continued
* most of the pillows in his apartment had WOODEN EMBROIDERY, so every night was potentially an adventure, with lacerations but a twitch away
The flight was long, but pretty uneventful. At the Frankfurt airport, my innate authority phobia kicked in, and when asked if I had purchased anything, I blurted out "A bagel..." and then added guiltily "...but I ate it." The official maintained his composure admirably. I watched Wall-E (the tiny, shitty in-flight entertainment screen REALLY did it justice. Sigh.) And that's about it.
The moment we arrived in Washington, I entered a state of permanent, low-level anxiety. I think the light went off when we were waiting in line to be cleared by the Department of Immigration, and had to endure a looped video of mind boggling American propaganda. Normally this would be cause for delight and mockery, but everyone around us reined themselves in after the initial burst of giggles, all too aware that the immigration officer can send your ass back wherever pretty much on a whim. To illustrate how arbitrary the whole process is: my guy, a weary, matter-of-fact African-American gentleman, asked me but two questions and gave me a June departure deadline, while Ana got grilled on how she met Bohdan (Oh, it's an epic tale of romance and adventure...) and was kindly asked to leave by February.
I don't think I ever shook off this weird guardedness. Don't take the kid's picture. Don't talk about race. Try not to do accents. It was all the more surreal since back home my circle of friends is notorious for its lack of political correctness, so my auto-censorship module is pretty rusty. We ended up just using Polish whenever discussing potentially inflammatory subjects. It turned out to be a surprisingly engaging exercise, since we've gotten so used to interspersing it with English expressions.
I remember the taxi driver being Indian (or Pakistani, I've no way of knowing, being a former Commie), and that was the case every time we took a cab, so it really is some sort of national (regional?) monopoly. At night, the outskirts of Washington seemed almost European (by which I mean: generic). Though maybe I was merely projecting, cause I remember being strangely comforted by the sight of a Siemens neon sign. It only registered with me that I'm actually on the other side of the pond, when I heard police sirens. It might sound naive, but to me sirens have really become the soundtrack of Washington. I've never heard so many in my life. And while in Poland they almost always signal the approach of an ambulance, here it was usually police cars. Even if you adjust for cavalcades, that's still pretty freaky.
Bohdan greeted us with open arms, declaring that I'll have to sleep on a wooden pillow* and cover myself with a towel (he told Ana to bring a sleeping bag, but neglected to CC me with that particular piece of information). It was kind of cold, so I finally got to feel like a scout. And now I know why I decided to miss out on that experience.
The next morning we walked him to work and set out to conquer the Mall of America. I have to admit I've no ide
a why it's called that (or even if it's the official name), but that's exactly what it is - all the national landmarks conveniently clustered in one area. We took the requisite Capitol, White House, and Washington Monument pictures, and paid a visit to Lincoln, but I was excited the most by the discovery of the Ordoss Embassy (pictured left). Then we picked Bohdan up from the library and went home to get ready to go to a gay sports bar (yeah, that's not a joke), where one of his co-workers was having a birthday party.to be continued
* most of the pillows in his apartment had WOODEN EMBROIDERY, so every night was potentially an adventure, with lacerations but a twitch away
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