I am bat shit crazy.
A few days after we returned from New York last month, my friend Julio found cheap plane tickets to go back home over Thanksgiving. He lives pretty close to Washington, DC, and has told me that he could host me sometime and show me around DC. So I guess Thanksgiving break was the closest occasion, and he invited me to take advantage of the cheap tickets with him.
On impulse, I said yes.
Nope, I didn't consult my parents. Nor did I tell them about it until I actually got there.
I did, however, hint at it on this blog, which is the best part.
I'm usually very vocal about my travel plans, so I'm astounded at how I kept it from my parents for this long (even when I saw them three weeks ago).
Before I get to explaining how I broke the news to my parents and how they reacted and, of course, more details on my time in the nation's capital, let me tell you about the harrowing day of departure I had proceeded by a day by day account of my Thanksgiving break.
Monday, November 24
Julio and I got plane tickets for a flight scheduled to leave Boston at 8:00 pm. For some reason, when I was signing up for a mandatory 35-minute long conference with my writing class professor, I signed up for the 5:30-6:05 pm slot. I guess I thought I'd have enough time to get to the airport?
The reality and implausibility of the situation hit me the day before departure. I started getting anxious. I was aware of what it took to get to the airport through the T: red line to South Station, then switch to Silver Line 1 to go to the airport. But knowing my luck with public transportation, I got very paranoid about the time I had between finishing the conference and getting to the airport on time. Talking to people about it who expressed their concern in agreement rather than reassuring me that I would have enough time only perpetuated my paranoia.
It was during breakfast at around 8:30 that I ran into my friend from my writing class, and we got to talking about conferences. She had signed up to do hers on Sunday, but an emergency came up with our professor and so hers had to moved until after break. She was a bit distraught because she really wanted to get hers done before break. I told her about my situation. And she suggested we switch times.
YES! I couldn't believe my luck.
I was almost completely relieved; we needed the professor's approval first. She sent our professor an email, and we were feeling optimistic. I would just sign up for a time to go after break instead of my friend, and she could take my place on Monday evening. All was well.
Until we got an email from our professor saying that regretfully, that wasn't possible.
A new wave of dread washed over me. These conferences already make me nervous, but the thought of hurrying to the airport right afterwards made it worse.
I continued being nervous the rest of the morning. I went to my writing class at 1 pm, and as I was settling down, my professor asked to talk to me.
Hoping for some miracle, I sat down next to her.
She looked at me and said, "Amanda, I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but since Samara said you were willing, do you mind moving your conference to next week? I have so much going on this evening, I'd really prefer to finish conferences early."
Right at that moment, I heard a choir sing HAAAAALLELUJAH in my head, and I felt something like this:
Feeling immensely relieved, I replied "Yes!!" as my professor thanked me sincerely, and I rescheduled for next week.
Bam. Win-win.
Julio and I arrived at the airport on time, got on the plane, and arrived in the DC airport at around 9:30 in the evening. We were picked up by his dad and driven back to his house in Virginia. That makes the tenth state I've visited!
Tuesday, November 25
We were supposed to go to DC on this day, but then decided against it because riots had broken out all over the city thanks to the news about Ferguson. So we spent a relaxing day going to Target shopping for Thanksgiving and doing other such suburban American activities. It felt exactly like Tualatin. Even on the other side of the country, suburbs are exactly the same. Or maybe that's just me being bored of suburban America and finding no place in this comfortable, passive lifestyle. I'll write about that another time and elect instead to write about how we spent the evening baking cookies and watching The Fault In Our Stars. Which was actually a lot of fun.
Wednesday, November 26
Once again, we were supposed to go to DC on this day, but it snowed. So we stayed in Centreville, relaxed, baked more cookies, etc.
Thursday, November 27
I suppose it makes sense that I see Washington, DC for the first time on Thanksgiving Day. In a way, it makes it more significant and memorable.
We weren't able to spend that much time in the city, but we did get to do a tour of all its most iconic monuments.
For starters, here's the white house!
Our walk took us to the WWII memorial, which had pillars honoring the different regions of the world that fought.
After we walked alongside the entire Reflecting Pool, we were greeted by this view from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
Way back in 6th grade, my first year in the USA, we had a project called the Eminent Person Project. Each 6th grader would choose an eminent person whose life they would research, and at the end give a presentation in front of class pretending they were that person talking about their life. I remember wanting Amelia Earhart but getting a woman named Maya Lin instead.
From my research for that little project, I learned that she was the architect of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, which is found in far-off Washington DC. (I also learned that she went to Yale...boooo.) I didn't have this burning desire to see it, but I somehow always remembered that at some point in my life I should really visit it. You know, as a sort of wink to my 6th grade self.
Guess that point in my life was during my first Thanksgiving break as a student at Harvard?
Not bad.
Anyway, I posted the picture of Julio, Abe Lincoln, and me on Facebook as an announcement to my parents. But because I decided to soften what I thought was going to be a shocking blow, I called my mother up first. This is the conversation that ensued (paraphrased, obviously).
Mom: Yes, what's up?
Me: Mom, hi. Happy Thanksgiving.
Mom: Cara says you have a lot to tell me...
Me: Yes, I do. Go on Facebook.
Mom: What is it?
Me: Go on Facebook, I said.
Mom: I can't go on Facebook right now! What is it?
Me: (After failing to convince my mother to just go on Facebook, I decided I might as well break the news then and there) Well, I'm not in Boston right now. I'm actually with Julio in Virginia.
Pause for a second. Ideally, I wanted my mom to go, "WHAT?" in utter shock. I wanted her to exclaim, incredulous, "How did you pull that off?" But no. Instead, here's what she said-
Mom: Haha! I knew you'd do something like that. I bet you're having so much fun!
After she finally went on Facebook, she remarked on what a cute picture it was, and commented on somehow knowing deep down inside that I wasn't going to be in Boston over break.
MOM. Really? I had these plans for a month, said nothing to you, made you believe I'm staying on campus with my international friends for Thanksgiving when in reality I went home with a boy (lol), and all you say is you knew it?
Even with crazy children like me, motherly intuition exists, I suppose.
Guess that means next time, I'll have to pull off something even more outrageous.
Anyway. Long story short, I had a fantastic Thanksgiving Break. My parents were happy that I was able to spend it with a family, and I was immensely happy to have had a Bolivian Thanksgiving with Julio and his family too. It was definitely one of my most memorable Thanksgivings yet (though that's probably because I can't really remember any of the other Thanksgivings I've had...oops).
The journey back, however, wasn't too pleasant; I left DC at around 7 pm on Saturday evening on a bus that didn't reach Boston until before 5 am the next day. I didn't really sleep. I was then stranded in South Station until 6:15 am, when the first metro train of the day ran. (Luckily, I had my Polish host sister Natalia on Facebook chat to keep me company!) At around 6:30, I stumbled into my good old dorm room, completely satisfied with the trip.
What can I say? I'm all about that crazy travel life.
Special thanks to my parents who put up with it. You guys are the best.
A few days after we returned from New York last month, my friend Julio found cheap plane tickets to go back home over Thanksgiving. He lives pretty close to Washington, DC, and has told me that he could host me sometime and show me around DC. So I guess Thanksgiving break was the closest occasion, and he invited me to take advantage of the cheap tickets with him.
On impulse, I said yes.
Nope, I didn't consult my parents. Nor did I tell them about it until I actually got there.
I did, however, hint at it on this blog, which is the best part.
Before I get to explaining how I broke the news to my parents and how they reacted and, of course, more details on my time in the nation's capital, let me tell you about the harrowing day of departure I had proceeded by a day by day account of my Thanksgiving break.
Monday, November 24
Julio and I got plane tickets for a flight scheduled to leave Boston at 8:00 pm. For some reason, when I was signing up for a mandatory 35-minute long conference with my writing class professor, I signed up for the 5:30-6:05 pm slot. I guess I thought I'd have enough time to get to the airport?
The reality and implausibility of the situation hit me the day before departure. I started getting anxious. I was aware of what it took to get to the airport through the T: red line to South Station, then switch to Silver Line 1 to go to the airport. But knowing my luck with public transportation, I got very paranoid about the time I had between finishing the conference and getting to the airport on time. Talking to people about it who expressed their concern in agreement rather than reassuring me that I would have enough time only perpetuated my paranoia.
It was during breakfast at around 8:30 that I ran into my friend from my writing class, and we got to talking about conferences. She had signed up to do hers on Sunday, but an emergency came up with our professor and so hers had to moved until after break. She was a bit distraught because she really wanted to get hers done before break. I told her about my situation. And she suggested we switch times.
YES! I couldn't believe my luck.
I was almost completely relieved; we needed the professor's approval first. She sent our professor an email, and we were feeling optimistic. I would just sign up for a time to go after break instead of my friend, and she could take my place on Monday evening. All was well.
Until we got an email from our professor saying that regretfully, that wasn't possible.
A new wave of dread washed over me. These conferences already make me nervous, but the thought of hurrying to the airport right afterwards made it worse.
I continued being nervous the rest of the morning. I went to my writing class at 1 pm, and as I was settling down, my professor asked to talk to me.
Hoping for some miracle, I sat down next to her.
She looked at me and said, "Amanda, I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but since Samara said you were willing, do you mind moving your conference to next week? I have so much going on this evening, I'd really prefer to finish conferences early."
Right at that moment, I heard a choir sing HAAAAALLELUJAH in my head, and I felt something like this:
Feeling immensely relieved, I replied "Yes!!" as my professor thanked me sincerely, and I rescheduled for next week.
Bam. Win-win.
Julio and I arrived at the airport on time, got on the plane, and arrived in the DC airport at around 9:30 in the evening. We were picked up by his dad and driven back to his house in Virginia. That makes the tenth state I've visited!
Tuesday, November 25
We were supposed to go to DC on this day, but then decided against it because riots had broken out all over the city thanks to the news about Ferguson. So we spent a relaxing day going to Target shopping for Thanksgiving and doing other such suburban American activities. It felt exactly like Tualatin. Even on the other side of the country, suburbs are exactly the same. Or maybe that's just me being bored of suburban America and finding no place in this comfortable, passive lifestyle. I'll write about that another time and elect instead to write about how we spent the evening baking cookies and watching The Fault In Our Stars. Which was actually a lot of fun.
Wednesday, November 26
Once again, we were supposed to go to DC on this day, but it snowed. So we stayed in Centreville, relaxed, baked more cookies, etc.
Thursday, November 27
I suppose it makes sense that I see Washington, DC for the first time on Thanksgiving Day. In a way, it makes it more significant and memorable.
We weren't able to spend that much time in the city, but we did get to do a tour of all its most iconic monuments.
For starters, here's the white house!
Our walk took us to the WWII memorial, which had pillars honoring the different regions of the world that fought.
 |
| Yes |
 |
| More yes |
 |
| The monument |
 |
| Perspective |
After we walked alongside the entire Reflecting Pool, we were greeted by this view from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.
Julio and I went to the top of the steps to where the huge statue of Abe Lincoln stood. It was there we took this picture, which I decided was how I was going to let my parents know of my whereabouts.
Before I get to that, let me tell you about the last monument that I knew I needed to see: the Vietnam Veterans Memorial.
From my research for that little project, I learned that she was the architect of the Vietnam Veterans Memorial, which is found in far-off Washington DC. (I also learned that she went to Yale...boooo.) I didn't have this burning desire to see it, but I somehow always remembered that at some point in my life I should really visit it. You know, as a sort of wink to my 6th grade self.
Guess that point in my life was during my first Thanksgiving break as a student at Harvard?
Not bad.
Anyway, I posted the picture of Julio, Abe Lincoln, and me on Facebook as an announcement to my parents. But because I decided to soften what I thought was going to be a shocking blow, I called my mother up first. This is the conversation that ensued (paraphrased, obviously).
Mom: Yes, what's up?
Me: Mom, hi. Happy Thanksgiving.
Mom: Cara says you have a lot to tell me...
Me: Yes, I do. Go on Facebook.
Mom: What is it?
Me: Go on Facebook, I said.
Mom: I can't go on Facebook right now! What is it?
Me: (After failing to convince my mother to just go on Facebook, I decided I might as well break the news then and there) Well, I'm not in Boston right now. I'm actually with Julio in Virginia.
Pause for a second. Ideally, I wanted my mom to go, "WHAT?" in utter shock. I wanted her to exclaim, incredulous, "How did you pull that off?" But no. Instead, here's what she said-
Mom: Haha! I knew you'd do something like that. I bet you're having so much fun!
After she finally went on Facebook, she remarked on what a cute picture it was, and commented on somehow knowing deep down inside that I wasn't going to be in Boston over break.
MOM. Really? I had these plans for a month, said nothing to you, made you believe I'm staying on campus with my international friends for Thanksgiving when in reality I went home with a boy (lol), and all you say is you knew it?
Even with crazy children like me, motherly intuition exists, I suppose.
Guess that means next time, I'll have to pull off something even more outrageous.
Anyway. Long story short, I had a fantastic Thanksgiving Break. My parents were happy that I was able to spend it with a family, and I was immensely happy to have had a Bolivian Thanksgiving with Julio and his family too. It was definitely one of my most memorable Thanksgivings yet (though that's probably because I can't really remember any of the other Thanksgivings I've had...oops).
The journey back, however, wasn't too pleasant; I left DC at around 7 pm on Saturday evening on a bus that didn't reach Boston until before 5 am the next day. I didn't really sleep. I was then stranded in South Station until 6:15 am, when the first metro train of the day ran. (Luckily, I had my Polish host sister Natalia on Facebook chat to keep me company!) At around 6:30, I stumbled into my good old dorm room, completely satisfied with the trip.
What can I say? I'm all about that crazy travel life.
Special thanks to my parents who put up with it. You guys are the best.
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