What's your Pleasure? (A Year in the City)

Food Trucks as far as the eye can see. Or at least for a block.

During my morning commute on the metro, I'll pass a food truck heading for the DC line. I often wonder if they will end up at Farragut  Square which is right by my usual metro stop.

Even as early as 9:40a.m. they start to file in. The food trucks. All of us in a zombie-like trance riding the escalators up to the square can smell them before they come into view. A strange mixture of aromas assault the senses as we cross over I Street and begin down the walk of multicultural food-stuffs. Every day they are slightly different, but the schedule is the same.

"If only you were open. I would happily give you my money..."

But alas, before 10:00a.m., none of the windows are open. Vendors are hanging signs and unpacking freezers of meat and condiments. They await the masses.

Yet, something amazing always happens. They are their own little community within a community. I've seen on multiple occasions, a food truck owner get out of their truck and help guide another truck to parallel park in a spot. They will also help other trucks unpack and set up. Being that I still stereotype DC sometimes... I would have thought that they would feel the competition to sell their wares and not try to help one another. But I am happily mistaken!

On rare occasion I will leave work early enough to witness the feeding frenzy that becomes Farragut Square during lunch. Seriously, have you seen a bunch of ducks being fed bread at a park pond? It's sort of like that. But the ducks have high heels and briefcases, and the bread is more like a taco-dumpling-empanada-fish sandwich type thing.

The temptation to stay and get in line is great. But then someone undoubtedly will jolt me back to reality with a push or stepping right in my path. Yup. I want to go home. Maybe next time.

But this DC cultural phenomenon is a fleeting thing. If I leave after 3:00p.m. there is no longer a sign of life at the Square aside from those walking to the metro, and the regulars in the park. The food trucks and their delirious aromas of international cuisine have long since gone. And I'm left to trudge back towards Virginia with an empty stomach.

Someday I will stop. Someday the timing will be right and I'll take part in the frenzy. But perhaps it is not today.

Meg

Situation Metro... All F***ed Up (A Year in the City)

Poor, poor WMTA. The Metro has been having quite a rough couple of  years. Crashes, power outages, fires, smoke inhalation death, poor management, broken 40 year old trains, snakes (WTF) and the ever present elevator outages.

And then there's the random derailments that can happen. Yup. Derailments.

So here's the gist of what happened last Wednesday:

A non-passenger train derailed at the Smithsonian Metro station Thursday caused major disruptions and delays for riders.

At 5:20 a.m., three cars of the 6-car train derailed at a switch point inside the station's tunnel. The train was being readied for service, so no passengers were on-board at the time of the derailment. There were no injuries, however, some damage was reported along the track.

Crowds of passengers spilled out onto the streets as a result as they had to navigate a patchwork of shuttle buses to get to their destination.

The derailment caused the Smithsonian and Federal Triangle stations to close and rail service on the Blue and Orange lines was suspended between the Federal Center SW and McPherson Square stations.

By late afternoon, two of the derailed railcars were re-railed and allowed Metro to restore partial service on the Blue and Orange lines.

At 8 p.m., the Federal Triangle and Smithsonian stations reopened for service. Single tracking was occurring on the Blue and Orange lines. (Courtesy of MyFoxDC.com)

So that was a little treat for everyone. I ended up being lucky. I got on my normal Silver line train with the expectation of changing trains at East Falls Church (to the Orange line) as they were requiring. 

We filed out silently to an already large crowd on the platform, waiting for the next Orange line train to help shuttle our super late asses to the city. 

Then something amazing happened. A Metro worker yelled out, Get back on folks. This is the ONLY Silver line train with approval to continue to McPherson Square (in the city). I glanced up at the Silver line sign on the train which flickered once and then listed "Special." Hell yeah we were! We got the golden (or in this case, silver) ticket to the city. We shuffled back onto the train car and turned it into a clown car... DC edition. There were people crowding into the cars, causing the train to tip slightly to the left from the excess of weight. We were low-riding it into the city. It still took well over two hours to get to work when it was all said and done, but the confusion was brought to a minimum. 

I exhaled when the train trudged up to Farragut. I made it with one stop to go before they shut down access for the derailment. All the same, the city was scurrying like a chicken with its head cut off. People were piling into buses that were stacked outside of the metro. Other commuters like myself, filled the streets and sidewalks in hopes of hailing a cab or walking to their final destinations. 

Leaving work was no better. We were still single-tracked out of the city, so LaKesha and I smushed in with others attempting to head back to Virginia and waited 20 minutes to switch back to the Silver Line. It took almost 3 hours to get home and I had to change my final exam in Woodbridge to virtual... there would have been no way for me to make it in time. 

So instead of everything going back to normal by Thursday... there was a power outage. Single tracking again. Yay for the Silver-liners! Of course there are growing pains and I think WMTA knows it. They're being kind enough to refund our fares for that day. And thankfully the cars are now out of the tunnels and things are back to "normal." Even more thankfully, the metro conductor of that train is unharmed, and it was a non-passenger train, so no one else was on board to be injured. But it's just one more event in a series of unfortunate incidents for DC Metro as of late.

Also, why does it take that long to fix an elevator? 

Also, also, why don't we have THESE cars (the 8000 series) on the NEW Silver Line? What makes Blue and Orange so dang special that we can't have nice things? 

Meg

Welcome to D.C. and an Ode to the Bodega

"Welcome to D.C..." (in the tune of Taylor Swift)

So I'm late on my catalog of my year in the city. I've already worked at my new job for a month and SO much has happened. But I wanted to do snippets of stories instead of "this is what I did today" type things. So bare with me. Here is the first one

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Ode to the Bodega 

LaKesha is my guide in this new place. When we metro in together I follow her lead like a good baby duck. She has a year on me with the commute so I imagined that she had an idea of where to go and what to do.

Day two of the new job, we were slowly meandering down Connecticut Ave towards work. "You hungry?"

"Holy God, yes. I didn't have coffee or anything yet. Getting up at 6:45a.m. is disagreeing with me" I said. So we walked into this hole in the wall bodega/cafe called The Daily Market. LaKesha would get a sandwich there pretty regularly.

"Watch, the woman that makes our sandwiches. She HATES me. Or women. Or both." she said.

And sure enough, this small 40-something Asian woman who made the deli sandwiches had an air of indifference towards L and I, but was sweet as molasses pie to all the male customers. It became a fascination over the rest of the month. So my usual was either a bacon, egg and cheese toasted on sourdough, or a good ole BLT. Pair that with an iced coffee, a container of mangoes and an Inkos Honeydew tea, and I was set for the day.

I digress.

Day after day was the same. Walk in around 9:45a.m. and greet the friendly Asian gentleman who I am guessing was the owner.

 "Good morning you!" he'd shout over the smoothie machine he was operating. I'd smile and wave, then make a beeline to the back. No time to chat my friend. Bacon is calling to me. "Hi. What you want?" grumpy-lady would ask.  Some days I'd buy for me and some I'd get L's usual for her (Turkey, Egg, Cheese and Tomato on Sourdough in case you are curious). When I'd only buy myself a sandwich she would look up from her order pad and say "No friend today? Okay, I make for you." This became our dance each day.

Then something changed in grumpy-sandwich-lady. I had made it a goal that 1) I'd make her smile, and 2) I'd make her have a real conversation with me.

After grabbing my sandwich for the day I looked up at her and said, "Thank you. You know these are the one thing I look forward to each morning before work." The corner of her mouth crept upward and her eyes softened.

Boom. There it was. A smile.

The next day she was a bit more pleasant, and by Thursday of that week we finally had a conversation. Surprisingly we ended up chatting about L being overseas, and how superstitious some people in Thailand are. And then we talked about my job and my love of bacon. It's a thing. Things were looking up for grumpy-gal and I!

Then Friday came. I got to the bodega a little late and had to wait in line behind a few regulars. I casually overheard part of their conversation...

"I can't believe it's closing. Where will I get my sammies now?" a sandy-haired businessman complained.

"You find somewhere. D.C. is full of food." she joked "Try food truck."

I internally started screaming... No. NO! I don't like change. What was this talk of closing?! They're closing the market!? I just got here!

When it was my turn, I questioned her. "So, when are you all closing for good?"

Without looking up from assembling my sandwich, she laughed "5:00p.m. today. That's it. We're done."

I had no warning! No time to mourn the loss. It was happening today. This would be my last sandwich. "Wow. I'm going to need more bacon to deal with this."

She smiled and handed me the sandwich. "You tell your friend hello for me. And have a good weekend to you."

"Take care of yourself." I murmured and wandered down the aisle to pay. Smoothie-man was standing at the ready with a sad smile. "You enjoy your job in the city. We appreciate your business. Enjoy the sunshine."

I walked out in a sad daze and trudged to work. How very dramatic right? It's a sandwich shop. The city is full of them. I get it. But the idea was that it had become part of the routine. There's even an angry little homeless man who never says thank you when you give him something who would park right outside the market.

He'd beg outside, or go in when someone bought him a sandwich (I did twice). The sandwich-woman would scold him when he'd get cranky about extra meat on his meal. "You shush. Pushy man. You get what I make and you say thank you to the lady." That shut him up and made me crack up laughing. Girl wasn't havin any of his shit. I, on the other hand, am a pushover. Now that the market was closing, the man was gone. Off to find another eatery to troll. I say troll because he wouldn't quietly sit with a cup or a sign. He wouldn't stand to the side or find a place in the shade to set up shop. He'd walk straight up to you and request a quarter, a dollar, a drink, and sandwich and/or a bowl of spaghetti (I'm not joking). I finally broke down and bought him the spaghetti once. He actually said thank you. But now that's over.

So now my walk is lonelier and hungrier. The windows have been covered and the padlock is set on the door. Rest in peace Daily Market. I hardly knew thee.

Meg

It's Been A While...

Wow. I haven't posted since last year!!! What am I doing with my life!? I guess that's where I'll start... what I'm doing with my life.

I am now officially Dr. Megan Tucker. BOOM! It happened. :)
I got back from Italy last summer and dove headlong into my dissertation and work. And it's been quite a journey! However, I must say that I am a little proud of myself for sticking with it and pushing for my goal of finishing the paper in a year and by having a  PhD before I turn 30. Well it's July 16th... one month and one week until my 30th. But it did really take up a ton of time.

This past Spring kind of flew by but at the same time it took forever! I defended in early April and spent the rest of the month editing and re-editing. In the meantime I was up to my ears in job applications. I think I became the master of the interview this year. I ended up doing upwards of 16 interviews or follow-ups. But of course, as fate would have it, a job I didn't apply for was the one I got. My dear friend LaKesha works for the National Communication Association in DC. They were looking for someone with a background in Comm, but with a degree or experience in Higher Ed. Ummm.. Hi. My name is Meg. Let me be your girl.

So on the way to another interview... on I-95, I get a call from her about setting up an interview for this job. One week later I was reading my offer letter and squealing. It's a temporary position, so I'll be back to the grind  next year, looking for another job. But for now it's where I am testing out this new, fancy degree. I even have a name plaque on my desk. Super grown up. ;)

The only drawback to the job is that I have a tremendous commute into DC every day, and I'm still balancing working part-time at GMU and NVCC Woodbridge. And I live in Centreville. So every week I get to do this:

It's about an hour and a half into the city and about two hours to get home. I drive to the Metro, take the train in, and then get off near the White House and walk almost a mile north to Dupont. It's exhausting. But so far I love the work I'm doing, I get to share an office with LaKesha, and I have some good co-workers who have taken well to me (I think).

And now, I am house-hunting. You'd think I'd look closer to the city... but you'd be wrong. I still like Centreville. I'm looking elsewhere as well, but I'm not straying too far from what I know. You guys know I hate change. It's a dreadful thing.

Oh yeah. And Joe is finally moving out here. Like, it's officially official. He had a job interview today and his last day of work is tomorrow. By early August, he will be a Virginia resident. So cheers to starting a new adventure!

My point of this update is also to introduce a new part of this blog. I'm going to document my year working in the city. I feel like this is one of those experiences that I'll want to look back on since it's not something I ever intended on doing. So if you are interested in looking at my year in DC, check back soon.

To new beginnings,

Meg

Firenze Frenzy: Planning a week in Florence, Italy

The Duomo in Florence, Italy

The gateway to our apartment complex

Being that we spent all day in Modena and Maranello on Sunday, we started our week in Florence on Monday. First off, let's talk about our apartment. We are situated about two blocks from the Duomo, which we can see from the living room window. The apartment is small and cozy with one bedroom (that Dad has graciously given to me since he gets up so early), a living room with a single bed, a dining area, a tiny closet sized kitchen and a bathroom. It's nice having a whole space to ourselves for sure. and the owners Giovanni and Maura were very kind and accommodating. We had some issues with the shower head (it doesn't attach to the holder above so you have to hold it the whole time) and there is a rather treacherous fight of stairs up to the apartment with a railing that is about to give up. But I am not complaining. For my first week here, it's a good start, and thankfully the weather has been nice, so having no AC has not been an issue. There is a little orange and white kitty that lives in the courtyard (or at one of the other apartments) in the building. She and I have formed quite a bond. :) The apartment is a huge old building dating back 400 years. It's amazing!

We are the open window halfway up.

Monday in Florence: The lay of the land

We needed to get our bearings and rest up from a day of travel and walking in Modena. So I suggested we hold off on the mass of museum tours we have a pass for until Tuesday. Instead we got up early and walked down to the open marketplace for some provisions. 30 Euro later we had tomatoes, strawberries, bananas, bread, proscutto, cheese, buffalo mozzarella, cookies and garlic for Rob and Val. :o)

After we dropped off our food and make a small lunch of caprese salad, bread and strawberries, we headed back downtown towards the Duomo. There was quite a line to get in at first, so we walked around taking photos of the facade. I spotted an artisan gelateria so I grabbed dad and I some gelato. A small chocolate and pineapple for me and a small double chocolate for him. When I emerged and headed back to the shade where Dad was sitting, I noticed he was in deep conversation with a couple in their 50s. He made friends again. :o) This lovely couple was originally from outside of London but moved to Australia about 30 years ago. We chatted them up for about 15 minutes about travel, food and the French (it's a hot topic over here). When the queue was almost gone, we said goodbye and headed into the Duomo. What a beautiful place! It is different from the Duomo in Milano, but just as lovely.

Monday night we scouted out a restaurant that was recommended to us by Giovanni where I had an amazing marinated steak and mixed roasted veggies. Dad got spaghetti de la mare. Two cappuccinos later we were wandering home and hit the hay.

Ciao,
Meg

Welcome to Modena!

Dad and I took a day trip via train to Modena and Maranello to visit both Ferrari Museums. Modena is famous for the home of Enzo Ferrari, as well as the production of a large amount of Italy's balsalmic vinegar.
For those who aren't sure of where this is, it is slightly north of Bologna.

So we woke up super early and caught a cab to the Firenze train station. One and a half hours later (on a slow train) we got to Modena. Modena hosts Enzo's family home and the Enzo Ferrari Museum. From June to sometime this fall the museum is hosting a large Maserati exhibit! What a beautiful display of cars! Not only that, but the museum created two videos that played in the showroom, detailing the history of Maserati and the link to Ferrari. Next to the museum (which is shaped like a Ferrari hood) is Enzo's family home, which was renovated to host some collectibles from the family, as well as a few vintage Alfa Romeos and Ferraris. My favorite was the "Enzo" Ferrari of which only 399 were made. Pure beauty! Even for those who are not car buffs like my father and I, you cannot deny that this is a form of modern art.

 

After we looked at the Maseratis, we took a break for lunch at the museum. Both of us got the tortoloni and some cappuccinos to refuel (na ha!) for part two. We then hopped on the shuttle to head to Maranello where the official Ferrari Museum is housed. I think our shuttle driver had dreams that his van was actually a Ferrari and that he was actually Mario Andretti... we were flying through the streets and weaving around traffic.

When we finally made it (in one piece) to Maranello, we entered a bustling Ferrari Museum with an overwhelming amount of Ferraris and memorabilia. It was the crush of humanity stuffed in a car museum. Regardless, it was a place of pure beauty and appreciation for the art of racing and craftsmanship.

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I think my father's face is now stuck in a permanent grin. It was the mecca of the racer...a car lover's utopia. Okay, maybe that is an exaggeration... but not by much. :)

After a long day wandering through both places, we headed back to the train station and traded up our tickets to an earlier fast train to Firenze. Dad met a family from Brazil on board that we recognized from the museum. So he made friends. That man can talk to basically anyone, language barrier be damned.

Ciao,
Meg

Beware of Pickpockets!

It can't be a Cinderella story all the time.

Of course you read "Beware of Pickpockets" all over Milan (and other places in Italy) and especially in bus/train stations. And of course you clutch your purse tighter, pay closer attention to people near you and keep stuff out of your back pockets.

But sometimes it happens anyway.

Dad and I were taking the train from Milano Centrale to Florence this past Saturday, and sometime in the station, Dad got robbed. Centrale was packed with people and we kept getting bumped into while weaving our way to our train. At one point when we were heading to the platform everyone bottle-necked and we ended up at a standstill. That's when I think it happened.

The worst part is that poor Dad was even prepared. He had his money clip in a side cargo pant pocket that was velcro'd shut. Sadly, it was still snatched. Credit cards, 300 Euro, license and the money clip from Joan... gone.

Thankfully we have my cards/cash and phone. So Dad called the credit card company etc to cancel the cards.

He took it fairly well, whereas I on the other hand was livid and nervous! For the next two days I had some anxiety going out and about and the distinct desire to punch people in the face. In fact, I may still want to do that. ;) But we figured it all out and all is well. I just hate not having control over certain events, or just knowing that I can't change the outcome of something frustrating.

This is two robberies in one trip: Cathy's smartphone and Dad's wallet. Can we be done now!?

This has not and will not sour my trip to Florence. <3 nbsp="" p="">
Meg