There was something about Iwo Jima. The air was thick and somber. Twighlight had set in and the evening’s only breeze wafted across the memorial, bringing with it the smells of the oncoming harvest season: Hot lawns and warm cement.

My eyes kept catching on Ira Hayes. Ira was a Native American. He never really got over the war. He never really became comfortable with becoming an american icon. He fought those battles within himself through substance abuse. He was found dead in a pool of his own vomit in January of 1955. He was 32 years old.
As I write this, I am three years older than Hayes lived to be.

When I was in DC recently, Gaia and I also saw the pandas. I’m told by locals you don’t always see the Pandas. Strange thing, this National Zoo.
Don’t take this as a criticism, but it seems that the National Zoo is built for the benefit of the animals, not so much for the benefit of the people. I think that’s great. The result is a zoo that is more about exploring a natural park and less about riding the trains. We only had a chance to see a very limited part of the zoo, so we stuck to the Asian area, expecting to see the famous pandas boxed up and on display. I mean, there’s only like 10 of them in America, so I figured it would be a “take a turn staring at the panda” line wait.
Turns out we were right. But also very wrong.

Mei Xiang and Tian Tian were, in fact boxed up. But that was only because the didn’t seem they wanted to go outside. And I don’t blame them. It was 98-degrees in the shade with some crazy high humidity that day. I had carried Gaia on my shoulders up the uphill mile-long hike from the “Zoo” Metro stop to the gates to the National Zoo. More on that later, but it shows that, I, like the pandas, were in a place to appreciate air conditioning.
But there they were: Pandas!

Sitting in a pile of bamboo leaves inside a cooled house, separated from each other and in the process of being reintroduced. Mei Xiang sat and ate several branches while we watched. As did Tian Tian. And so that was seeing the Pandas. It was special and crowded, and not a very long wait, so, overall, panda-riffic!

Here’s where we were wrong: seeing the pandas outside is not a better way to see them. From conversations with locals and others who have been to see the Pandas and not seen them because they were outside and therefor harder to spot, it turns out when the pandas are out they can escape your view if they feel so inclined. And so walking through the twisty turns and variety of paths that offer lots of angles to peak and peer into PandaLand, you have a good chance of seeing a panda, but not a panda-promise.

But the Bamboo! And the walk through the zoo! And the other rare and unusual asian animals on display! This was all great, too. Red Panda (not a panda), sloth bears (not a sloth), Asian Otters (really otters), and The Fishing Cat (sleeping not fishing). All rare and special sights to see. Gaia was particularly impressed with the Red Panda since her familiarity with it comes exclusively from the Katamari games.

Having grown up within shouting distance of the Milwaukee County Zoo, I can tell you this: Milwaukee County used to be the kind of a zoo that was about “experiencing” natural animals in their natural setting doing natural stuff. And I suppose that’s still true. Perhaps its familiarity with the Milwaukee County Zoo that makes it seem so mundane; but when you walk through the asian animals area within the National Zoo, it’s sort of like walking through a different place. You’re almost connected to the animals native places— in an idealized and safe way, don’t get me wrong. But, unlike the aging exhibits in Milwaukee, the National Zoo was, for me, as much an botanical experience as a zoological one*. Seeing the gardens, the winding trails, the beautiful bamboo, and the misty walls surrounding PandaLand are worth the price of admission.

>

Speaking of the price of admission, this is truly the zoo’s greatest feature. No admission costs. Just walk right in. But the walk, oh yes, you will pay for the walk. So here’s a pro-tip for those of you who take the Metro the the National Zoo, shared with me after the fact by a zoo greeter:
Get off at Cleveland Park, not at the Woodley Park-Zoo/Adams Morgan exit on the red train. The cleveland park stop is the same distance from the zoo as the Zoo stop, but it is downhill. Then get back on the Red Train at the Zoo stop. Again, walking downhill.

*Notable exception for the Grey Wolf exhibit and recently remodeled Giraffe house in Milwaukee. And an extra asterisk in recognition of the unique challenge presented by Milwaukee’s colder climate.

Washington Monument.

It's an obelisk. A four-sided, tapering monument which ends in a pyramidal top; originally from ancient Egypt. It has red, blinky lights at the top like a pair of beady eyes-- just like George Washington had.

We did not have the opportunity to get inside or even up to the ring of flags at the monument's base. And that's a shame. But the thing is, when you're tooling around in the District of Columbia, the monument-- the tallest structure in the city-- is always there.

It quickly became my own orienting point; when getting your bearings you'll probably find yourself making weird directions like, "Walk two blocks from the station with the monument on your left."

Lincoln Memorial:

We had more than one friend suggest we be sure to see the Lincoln Memorial. A focal point of American pride, the temple is, and it conducts a weird electric energy of pride -- but without the ego that one gets at the Jefferson. Lincoln symbolizes for so many in America, honesty, tenacity, and principled virtue. Like the FDR Memorial, this Memorial gets the job done, explaining exactly what the intent of the temple is in big letters above the statue of Lincon: "In this temple as in the hearts of the people for whom he saved the union the memory of Abraham Lincoln is enshrined forever."

I had connected with Lincoln earlier in the week, having seen a couple of -incredible- castings of his face and hands at the Smithsonian-- but the connection to the Greek architecture was amazing. Climbing the Memorial's stairs was not unlike climbing El Castillo, and, just like El Castillo, when you get to the top, you realize that you are sitting at the heart of one of the world's great civilizations.

Sitting at the top of the stairs on the Memorial and looking out across the mall over the reflecting pool to the Washington Monument, across the memorials to those lost war, across the tangled mess of traffic and travelers, you truly realize you're sitting, for better or worse, at the center of the American experience.

Jefferson Memorial:

I hope that when the spirit of Thomas Jefferson looks at how history has treated him, he is grateful. A man truly capeable of incredible rhetoric and amazing word-smithing, the Jefferson Monument is an interesting dichotomy: Directly across from the white house, created at the request of FDR, the monument contains well-excerpted selections of Jefferson's seminal works, some of which he even wrote.

The water at the Jefferson Memorial tastes gross.

Roosevelt Memorial

This monument is amazing. The energy there is palpable. As you walk through the four-stages of FDR's terms in office, you experience not only the amazing and inspirational messages that peppered FDR's rhetoric, but you are moved through the social context of those messages as you explore the site. The park uses water, stone and sculpture to take you through rom the somber struggle of the Great Depression to the chaotic crumbling of a World at War.

It's a complicated memorial: how do you build a something that can compete with the grandeur and romance of Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln, and still remains true to Roosevelt's principles? Even Roosevelt himself said he wanted little more of a memorial than one the size of his desk. But, thanks, I think, to the use of natural features and wide, accessible space, the Roosevelt Memorial manages to capsulize Roosevelts impact on America as we know it today in a subtle, moving way.

Also note, that of the four icons profiled here, Roosevelt's is the only one to have serious consideration of his family as part of the experience. Both First lady and dog Fala are represented in this Memorial. It's also the only one representing not only the greatness of the man, but the American People as well. This Memorial does what others simply do not: It casts the perspective of humanity across the works of a truely great president.

My advice: if you're going to Washington DC don't bother not looking like a tourist. If you're not wearing a name badge or credentials of some kind, you're a tourist. That's how DC seems to roll, anyway. Nobody in DC wears confortable shoes unless they're on vacation. Or crazy. Or both.
The family rolled up on Washington DC about 1 a.m. EDT on July 15th, having followed the AAA TripTik, which is not a Google Map, for 15 hours. On time, in place, and surrouneded by a new city on the cusp of new experiences. The next morning, we took Gaia to McDonalds.

Monuments/Memorials/Buildings that were awesome to behold:

• Lincoln
• Washington
• Iro Jima
• Franklin Delano Roosevelt

We stayed, mostly, for reasons that are unimportant, at the Crystal City Hyatt in Arlington Virgina. It's lobby and lounge were not well airconditioned, but to be fair, it was over 95 most of our visit.
There is a duality in Crystal City, it is both part of the District of Columbia and not at all part of the District of Columbia, in that its in Arlington Virgina, practicaly within walking distance of Ronald Reagan national airport. There was a hotel-run shuttle that circulated from 6 a.m. to midnight between the hotel and the metro station.
I was struck dumb, at one point, overhearing someone complaining at the Crystal City Mall that "this is kind of a touristy mall," and that they'd take them to the good mall in the city where they could better shop for souvenirs.
Crystal City, according to the hotel concierge, for what it's worth, was named after the developer's wife, Crystal. Wikipedia disagrees. But then again, I think it's probably valid to trust the information gleaned from Wikipedia with about the same amount of salt as you would trust the concierge of a mid-level Hyatt within spitting distance of Ronald Regan Airport.
Anyway, point is, you'll never not look like a tourist in Washington DC if you're not wearing some kind of a badge that was issued to you by your employer. There's probably this great thriving scene in DC that I'm just unaware of, but that's OK. I'm from Milwaukee. I really only came out there to look at the monuments and stuff.