A Brief Introduction to my Internship

            I have the go-ahead to tell you about my internship!! So here goes my attempt at a summary:

I’m working at the Near East and South Asia Center for Strategic Studies this semester as an Outreach Assistant for the Communications Office. As I understand it, NESA is a Department of Defense funded organization that has the two primary roles of housing experts on relevant regions and issues and holding seminars that bring together officials from the NESA region of the world to talk about topical issues. For example, we are nearing the end of a two-week long seminar on combating transnational threats that has attracted 52 foreign officials who have been invited by their various embassies.

            I specifically intern for the Communications office, meaning my current responsibilities include documenting the seminar via photos and written summaries. I sit in on the lectures and take notes for my own research and for synopses distributed on the website. Then, during coffee breaks, off-site visits, and free moments, I take pictures of the participants looking studious, interacting with NESA staff and lecturers, and connecting with one another.

            To be honest, it was kind of uncomfortable in the beginning. Here I am, a 20-year old girl bouncing around with my Cannon, the loud shutter sound echoing and flash attachment blinding. Some of the staff have nicknames for me when I’m in photo-mode, “photo fairy,” “the paparazzi,” and “the entourage” are just a few. But what I most feel like is a hunter. (A non-violent, non-threatening, slightly frazzled one, but a hunter nonetheless.) I look around, constantly trying to spot the best grouping of participants, walk softly to avoid attracting attention, lift the clunky camera, and go for the shot.

            Almost all 52 participants seem to love the camera. They request posed pictures in different locations around the office—“like I was the speaker”, “in front of this flag”, “now in front of this one”, “with the view of the river”, etc. Sometimes they even photobomb each other, acting like long-standing friends.

            And that brings me to my favorite part of my job. Every day, I get to interact with people I would never get a chance to meet otherwise—whether they are NESA staff members that are working on The Day After Project in Syria or a Major General from Bangladesh. I get to laugh with them as they pose theatrically for the camera, learn about their countries informally, collect business cards in Arabic, Russian, and Farsi, and be invited to three different countries a day.

            I am continuously surprised by how relaxed the participants are willing to be around me. They are superior in almost all quantifiable ways—age, education, rank, experience—yet there’s little stuffiness, stilted conversations, or put downs. So, after 1-2 hour lectures that leave my head spinning with long mental scrolls of things to research and presumably leave them with a paradigm shift in views towards the US government, we interact as if I were also a participant, laughing and talking about the lectures, the city, and the world.

            And in between conversations and tourism tips about Jordan, Uzbekistan, Armenia, and Lebanon, I hunt for picture-perfect moments for them to cherish upon returning home.

Had a Ball at the Ball—The One in Which My Mom Plays Fairy Godmother

            For those of you who may not be aware, or may just not care, President Barack Obama was sworn-in for his second term yesterday morning (1/22/13). It was also Martin Luther King Day, so a three day weekend, and the cause of an absolute clustermess downtown.

As a result, the entire weekend was filled with various inauguration events, including service opportunities, many tours, motorcade chases (these are probably unsanctioned), and of course, balls and galas. And while President Obama declared there will be only two official inaugural balls (to save on money and military personnel hours), there were still lots of unofficial galas and parties. And on Friday, I was invited to one!

Gabriel, one of the students from the Georgetown Program, is working at the US-Mexico Chamber of Commerce this semester and was offered tickets to the Fiesta Americana ball they co-hosted. At shortly before 3pm on Friday, he very kindly invited me along with two other students. Would I like to go? YES!!! But what will I wear…?!? And so began a two-hour long dash around northwest DC. To the stores in Georgetown, BCBG—flat out, Karen Miller—nothing below the knee, Max Studio—gorgeous dress in black, but too expensive. Okay, onwards to Friendship Heights.

Quick call to my mom while on the bus. “I’m going to a ball!” I squee excitedly. “But help, what do I wear? Do you have anything in a six that will be long enough for me? Jewelry? How will I fit in? I don’t speak Spanish!” Feel my heart racing double-time, and try and calm down on the ride over. Finally after a few more stores, mom meets me and we find a beautiful purple strapless gown at Lord and Taylor in the return to rack section. L&T comes through again, thanks to my mom. Why don’t I ever learn to just look there first?

So we race to pay for it. Oh, and stop for a makeup session at the Bobbi Brown station on the way (perhaps this is the best time to confess that I know very little about the art of makeup. Oh, I was in eighth grade once, too. I can swipe on mascara somewhat evenly, even occasionally a little bit of eye shadow, but god forbid I try anything with blush, and I would be offered a spot in Barnum and Baileys if I even attempted anything beyond chapstick.) So to Sara at Bobbi Brown, you are an artist and you have my heartfelt thanks. Somehow you turned my eyes from shifting hazel to sparkling green, evened my skin tone, and made me feel like I glowed. In fact, I have never been so happy to be so shallowly self-content as you made me Friday night. I’ll be back for a real lesson another time.

A dash home for my necklace from prom, a quick conversation with my dad (who my mom and I both agreed just simply did not understand the situation), and a ride back to Georgetown in the mini van. “No thanks, I think I’ll take a cab to the OAS building, not hop out of the mini van, but thank you for the offer. You were amazing today. I love you”

A dash into my apartment to shimmy into my dress, being careful not to smudge my purple and silver “smoky eye”, step into my heels regretfully, twirl for the mirror (maybe more than once) and a dash to the library where I met Julio, my taxi-partner and wonderful company for the evening, for the cab ride down to the Organization of American States building.

A huge, square marble structure, the OAS building was gorgeous, surpassed in elegance only by the inside, where multiple trees stretched to reach the vast, towering ceiling. The plaza downstairs featured a large fountain and benches just meant to seat couples and friends chatting close while the mariachi band’s cheery tunes filtered out from near the double-doors to the sculpture filled gardens.

Double sets of sweeping marble staircases led to the ballroom, where an amazing group played cello and violin adaptations of popular songs and movie themes. The four of us SWP students mingled with other students from different programs, interns, and frankly anyone who would look our way. And we had pretty great food, enjoyed feeling pretty (I speak on behalf of the boys who I didn’t ask, but imagine did like feeling pretty, who doesn’t?), and got to know each other a bit better. What more could an aspiring Disney princess ask for?

As the night drew to a close, the midnight syndrome kicked in a bit. We waited for a while in the cold for a taxi, weaved through the drunken masses back on campus, and in general couldn’t wait to kick off our dress shoes and lie down for a bit. But, instead of giving in and allowing ourselves to collectively turn into sleepy pumpkins, we decided to be college students.

So we got pizza! And ate it in a dorm room at 1:30am, lounging in our formal wear, shoes kicked off, and hair ruffled. And I’ve never felt more like a princess.

Coming Soon to a Theater Near You--Why Haven't I Blogged About This Weekend

I promise I will write of this past weekend soon. There is a lot to write about: a ball, my first day of memorial touring, some musings on friendships, and of course, the inauguration.

However, as I walked down from Georgetown to the Inauguration at 6:30 in the morning (about a 5 mile walk), stood in line for two hours, clapped and screamed enthusiastically, then did it all in reverse to get back at around 5pm, I'm not even going to attempt to blog right now.

I'll write tomorrow. Hopefully my mind, thighs, and sense of humor will be awake then.

Another Work Day, Another Awesome Commute

 My first non-orientation day at my internship was awesome. I sat in on a fascinating lecture, took oodles of pictures, got to meet some really interesting, insightful people, and learned the Russian word for traffic jam—пробка (probka).

I was at work from 8am to 4pm, meaning it has now been over seventeen hours since I woke up, but my day has left me exhilarated and eager to share my experiences and observations with all of you. Unfortunately, I’m not sure yet exactly how much I can share for now, so until I receive permission, you can look forward to playful behavioral observations, new friendships, and some heavy political questions.

So for today, I’ll take you along on my commute. It begins at six when I frantically scramble to silence my cell phone alarm before completely waking my roommate, Mary Jo. Then it’s a full two minutes of shivering in the shower, as none of the other students in my apartment block have used hot water, so it needs to warm up (both literally and figuratively). Then once I’m lobster red and somewhat awake, this morning with the aide of shampoo in my sleepy eyes, it’s out and into a quick make-up and hair session. Then a jump into my sweater and slack combo (yes, it’s at least business casual every day), a quick fumble in my room for everything—purse, badge, key, notebook, coat. Then out the door—oh! Forgot shoes, okay now out the door.

Clicking and clacking down N street to Wisconsin, I greet dog walkers and the occasional jogger alike while my velveteen wedges hit the bricks, sending echoes off of pastel-colored townhouses. Then onto the bus at Dumbarton and Wisconsin, for a ride to 7^th and SW Jefferson, followed by a rushed walk along 7^th over the National Mall to L’enfant to catch the shuttle.

“Good morning sir, good morning ma’am, how are you doing this morning? Yes, I wish it would clear up. Oh, we’re getting some snow tomorrow? Wow, better hope it doesn’t affect the inauguration. Mind if I sit here? Thank you.”

A bumpy ride down to the Potomac waterfront, and I have arrived. Through the scanner, “hello ma’am how are you doing today? Oh, I’m just fine, thank you for asking. Have a great day!” Then up to my office to learn what I’ll be doing on my first real day.

At four pm, it’s the reverse. A more subdued shuttle ride, then a relaxed stroll across the mall to catch my 36 bus. With no real rush, and protesting feet, sometimes even relaxed is too strong of a word to describe my molasses-like pace crossing the wide zebra-marked crosswalks of Constitution and Pennsylvania Avenues. But my lead-footed plod breeds remarkable prizes.

I look over the crowd control barriers in one direction and could see the Capitol, in the other the Washington Monument. To my left is the Smithsonian building, still beautiful even in the midst of construction and renovations. As I continue, I take a short detour through the Sculpture Garden, which has had its central fountain turned into an ice skating rink where children, and one very graceful man, were twirling, daring to skate backwards, and laughing in the cold air. A little bit further along, a beautiful view of the glass-fronted Newseum with its prominent inaugural-banners.  And then across from my bus stop, the imposing, statuesque National Archives, impressive despite the bleachers placed in front of its four statues marking the future, past, heritage, and guardianship.

This city is sometimes overly steeped in history, politics, and self-importance, pressing down the yoke of expectations, connections, and nepotism upon your shoulders. But it’s a certain type of wonderful to be able to take in global iconic sites during my daily commute. With such a connection to one of the hearts of today’s world, how could I help but to be rejuvenated, inspired, and empowered?

If it was hard to get the visual from my description, here are a few photos I took on my way home:

On my right, the Washington Monument

On my left, the Capitol

My favorite sculpture at the Sculpture Garden (lamp post not included)

The National Archives.

This City Runs on Interns (And Giant Portions of Chocolate Cake)

 I am exhausted. (In fact, so tired that I’m afraid I will fall asleep at this table and this post will end with nonsense letter combinations banged out by my forehead hitting the laptop.) But I will persevere to talk about my first day as an intern in DC.

            Everyone who works in DC says, “this city runs on interns.” Then they give me an encouraging smile, hinting that the city or at least my organization would collapse without the work of unpaid student workers such as myself. And those words are certainly encouraging, to a point.

            But today, after my feet and fingers were numb from the misty rain shrouding the city, after failing to appropriately choose which metro/bus combination would get me to my office on time, after a (well-deserved but still gut-wrenching) lecture from the security guard at my building about always carrying multiple forms of proper identification, meeting what seemed like hundreds of people, being heartily intimidated by the site of an office building filled with extremely fit coast guard officers, and walking over four miles in heels and a suit in the now horrifyingly ugly barrier and bleacher-filled downtown area, I was feeling too pathetic to run my own life, let alone a whole city.

            But then came the chocolate cake. Well more appropriately, then came dinner sponsored by Carnegie Mellon Center for International Relations and Politics for the eleven of us participating in the Semester in Washington Program. The lovely Katie organized this gathering for us, as a way to bond as a group and to show that we have support from CMU even though we may actually be studying at another university, but also to just relax and swap stories about our first week at Georgetown, and first day as interns.

            We ate at Old Ebbitt Grill, a institution with roots trailing back beyond the 1820s, but now a beautiful, spacious, popular restaurant and bar on fifteenth street right across from the National Press Club. It was decadent, filled with suited and coifed professionals, and utterly delicious. With a menu starring parmesan trout, salmon, kobe beef sandwiches, truffle mac and cheese, an impressive oyster bar, and absolutely divine crab cakes, we couldn’t help but feel sophisticated and slightly worldly as we talked and joked in the marble atrium-like space. And the food was to die for. I went for classic favorites—super creamy, flavor-packed clam chowder, baseball sized crab cakes (advertised as 95% crab meat, with “just enough filler to keep it together”), and to finish, a monster of a chocolate layer cake. (While not quite competition for the flourless chocolate cake my sister and I made two weeks ago (recipe to come in future post), it was pretty darn good, and sweet enough to induce thoughts of cozy sweaters and a warm fire place.)

As I ate it, I found myself becoming increasingly drowsy as food coma began to set in, but also more comfortable with the chaos of my day. My hair may have been frizzy after the rain, the balls of my feet weeping after the long walk to the restaurant, my fingers just barely regaining feeling, and my mind spinning with names and floor plans I was already forgetting, but my heart rate was finally slowing, I was calming down, and my spirit was replenished.

            But now, I’m now utterly shattered. Literally staring down the short hallway of my apartment to my bedroom door wondering if I can make it—maybe if I crawl on all fours... or roll... But, I’m not upset that I’m tired. Rather, I’m invigorated. I already love my organization, despite the first day’s troubles. I know that through my internship, I’m going to have opportunities to meet and talk with people I never would otherwise get to know, including professors with expertise in regional and topical areas I love to study. The entire staff is welcoming and friendly, and I cannot wait to start contributing to the mission of the organization. But, despite these positive conditions, the sheer enormity of the challenge of this semester has started to sink in.

            I’m a student expected to produce top quality work at an excellent university. I’m a young adult in a diverse, historical, fun, unique place I can’t wait to explore further. I’m a self-aware kid with the need to take breaks, zone out, bake, dance, eat decadent chocolate cake, listen to music, or take some time every day to reflect. And I'm also a young intern with a city to help run—although I’m half-convinced it just takes miracles in the form of chocolate cake.

Museum Challenge 2013

          I’m pretty lucky to be from Washington, DC. Most people have heard of it—they may have even visited before. My hometown is a vacation destination for the likes of girl scout troops from Ohio, middle-school students from Pennsylvania, and families from around the world. Postcards depicting monuments I admire from afar are sent ever day to Paris, Tokyo, Johannesburg, Rio de Janeiro and beyond.  There are countless Facebook pictures posted in front of the White House gates, “holding up” the Washington Monument, in front of the towering marble Lincoln, and among fluffy pink cherry blossoms at the Tidal Basin.

            However, like most DC natives, I don’t take full advantage of the history and culture surrounding me. I’ve certainly covered the big five—Natural History, Air and Space, Washington Monument, Lincoln Memorial, and the White House—and I do still continue to expand my repertoire of DC sites. I event would venture to say that the Jefferson memorial is one of my favorite places in the world. However, the truth is that I am woefully behind on my hometown lore and sites.

            But, that’s all about to change. I’m hereby publically challenging myself to a self-named “DC museum, memorial, and important sites” marathon. I’m starting with the following list, and setting a goal of visiting at least two-thirds of these sites by May 3^rd, the last day of my program at Georgetown. The remainder will be visited this summer.

            For each site I visit, I’ll be completing a short post, complete with pictures (yes, I’m going to start integrating photos!), stories, and the occasional review. The preliminary list (please comment or contact me with suggestions to add) is:

The Smithsonian Seventeen:

            Anacostia Community Museum
            Sackler Gallery

            Arts and Industries Building

            Freer Gallery of Art

            Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden

            Air and Space (bonus points for the bigger one in Chantilly)

            African American History and Culture

            Museum of African Art

American History

Museum of the American Indian

Natural History

National Portrait Gallery

Postal Museum

Renwick Gallery

American Art

Smithsonian Building

National Zoo

Other Museums and Galleries:

            Holocaust Museum

            Newseum

            Textile Museum

National Museum of Women in the Arts

            Corcoran Gallery

            The Phillips Collection

            Connersmith Gallery

            National Gallery of Art

Monuments and Memorials:

            Jefferson

            Lincoln

            World War II

            Vietnam War

            Washington Monument

            African American Civil War Memorial

            Air Force Memorial

            Arlington Cemetery

            FDR

            Korean War Memorial

            Iwo Jima

            Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial (brand spanking new!)

            National Archives

            Theodore Roosevelt Island

Other Cool Places:

            Library of Congress

            Folger Shakespeare Library

            Anderson House

            Arlington House

            Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception

            National Cathedral

            Thomas Jefferson Building (bonus Civil War exhibit!)

            National Arboretum

            Old Stone House

            Union Station

            The Capitol

            Bureau of Engraving & Printing

            Ford’s Theatre

            Supreme Court

            Woodrow Wilson House

Scavenging for Embassy Admission—A Tale of Heartbreak at Orientation

            This Semester in Washington program I’m participating in at Georgetown University is an odd middle ground in many ways. I am a Georgetown student, but am expected to intern three days a week. I take classes, but they’re taught by faculty who only teach for this program. I live in on-campus housing with full-time students, but I’m only here for the semester. As a result, I feel kind of adrift between many directions, with only the other twenty-one participants to hold onto.

           

            And I met them all on Monday. We had a scavenger hunt as a fun ice-breaker type activity, followed by a delicious hors d’oeurves spread, and introduction to some of our faculty. But it was at the scavenger hunt that I realized how out of my depth I am, despite being from DC.

            Set up by ThingsToDoDC, the scavenger hunt featured iconic, and not so iconic locations for us to find, either gathering items or taking team pictures. Different challenges had different point values, and some locations were much further than others, for instance a picture of the statue of John Carroll on university grounds, or one outside of the White House. With the incentive of free admission to a formal evening at the Italian Embassy to celebrate Valentine’s Day complete with an orchestra, free food, and an open bar, we were all properly motivated.

So we dutifully attempted to persuade stubborn Banana Republic workers to give us a bag, anxiously sought out locations to buy a purple crayon, ran after a man in a suit to surround him and snap a picture, and walked up and down M Street over and over again.

We had spent the two hours inefficiently, laughing at our confusion, and anxiously consulting smart phones every step of the way, so I was not shocked to hear that we had not won.  Disheartened because I felt like I had the home-court advantage, I gritted my teeth and congratulated the winning team, secretly half-hoping that one of them might get sick and allow me to take their place (I am a complete international geek, so embassy events are to be coveted.) I couldn’t help but calculate what we could have done to get more points.

            But, after some reflection yesterday, I have come to the conclusion that not knowing my way around, getting lost en route to the simplest of locations on campus, and just in general feeling kind of clueless is to be embraced. It means I have so much to learn, seek out and explore. And I simply can’t wait.