Mile
Zero

On Black Friday, while the rest of Virginia storms their local retailers for loss-leader merchandise, Belle and I will pile into the car with our pets and start a week-long drive across the country to our new home in Seattle. The move is the realization of a long dream of ours: to get as far away from Washington, DC as was humanly possible.

I kid! Mostly. We won't miss the political atmosphere, the terrible public transit system, or the sweltering DC summers. But we will be far away from our family and friends, and there are some parts of DC that have grown on me. Here are a few things about the city that I will, in all honesty, miss:

• Ethiopian food: I was a late starter on the joys of intercultural cuisine because I had never grown up around good ethnic restaurants. It wasn't until I got to college that I got to sample all kinds of new restaurants and cooking styles, and that's been a joy ever since. I have a soft spot for Vietnamese food, particularly those savory bahn mi sandwiches. But what DC has that few other cities in the US can offer is a vibrant set of Ethiopian restaurants offering spicy, rich stews and vegetables with a side of spongy injera bread. It's so good, and it'll be hard to match elsewhere.
• Free museums: We don't take advantage of the many museums in DC, which is a shame. It's only when we travel that we've realized just how rare museums with free admission are--especially great ones, like the National Gallery of Art or the Smithsonian. Not to mention DC's free National Zoo! It's hard to beat seeing pandas (or not seeing pandas) for free.
• Journalism: While I'm often critical of DC political journalism, this must be said: there's a lot of it, and that means a lot of opportunities. Since high school, I'd wanted to work in the news industry, and in this city there are plenty of chances. It's a bit of a shock to realize how much thinner the media industry (and, sadly, the job market in the media industry) is outside the Beltway.

A follow-up on last month's gentrification post:

My own relationship with DC has not been particularly positive over the last decade. It's not a immediately romantic city the way I wanted a city to be when I left college. The height limit means that it has no skyscrapers, and the monuments result in a swamp of annoying tourists every summer. Probably snobs in every great city have the same gripes about tourism--sacre bleu!, I imagine a poorly-stereotyped Parisian exclaiming at the horde around the Arc de Triomphe--but it doesn't make it any less frustrating, particularly since Americans are the most tasteless tourists in the world ("you'll get no argument here," sniffs my imaginary French friend, to which I can only respond that at least we're not responsible for Bernard-Henri Levy).

I'm a white, white-collar worker who moved here for school, living just across the river in Virginia. So as a result, my image of the city was (for a long time) a lot like the gentrification version--a mass of tedious political operators schmoozing at Starbucks. I didn't want to live in a place like that, and I wasn't well-positioned to see the DC underneath, or particularly inclined to change my circumstances.

What changed, of course, was taking classes on urban dance. Breaking and popping took me across the river (both literally and metaphorically). Classes and jams got me to travel to parts of the city I don't visit during my average workday. And they brought me into contact with people who lived in DC, who grew up here, who take part in the nightlife and the culture--people from a wide variety of backgrounds and economic classes. Breaking introduced me to new perspectives and let me see DC through their eyes. As someone whose Venn diagram of "worthwhile" intersects almost completely with three other circles marked "interesting," "challenging," and "disruptive," it has been immensely rewarding.

When we talk about multiculturalism, I think there's a sense to which we (and particularly "we" meaning "white people") consider it a duty. Academics do studies evaluating whether diverse neighborhoods are more stressful, or diverse workplaces are more productive, and we nod thoughtfully and probably do not change our minds, because people make most of their decisions on an emotional basis. Multiculturalism is rarely pitched as a pleasurable thing--as something that enriches our experiences. But it is! I may never love DC, but it's because of a multicultural community that I can see why I might like it, and why a gentrified DC would be a real loss.

Gentrification in DC has been the center of some discussion again, following an article in the New York Times on the changes on U St and, most recently, the H St corridor. Ta-Nehisi Coates has a pair of posts on the emotional response to this process, and another on the statistics of DC's demographic transitions:

Washington's black population peaked in 1970 at just over half a million (537,712 to be precise.) It's declined steadily ever since, with the biggest decline occurring between 1970 and 1980 when almost 100,000 black people left the city. Whites were also leaving the city by then, but at a much slower rate--the major white out-migration happened in the 50s and the 60s.

By 1990 whites had started coming back. But black people--mirroring a national trend--continued to leave. At present there are around 343,000 African-Americans in the District--a smaller number, but still the largest ethnic group in the city. I say this to point out that the idea that incoming whites are "forcing out" large number of blacks has yet to be demonstrated.

...

More likely, we are using a local matter as an inadequate substitute for a broader national situation that still plagues us. The fact is that the two parties--those blacks who remain by choice or otherwise, and those whites who are returning--are not equal. In the District, you are looking at a black population that is reeling under a cocktail of an ancient wealth gap, poor criminal justice policy, and economic instability. On the other side, you have a well-educated, and well-insulated, white population with different wants and different needs.

There is much more here to consider about what that means, about what people feel like they're losing. Even as I interrogate the statistics, I maintain that people are not stupid, and that it's critically important to understand why they feel as they do. Black people have not owned much in this country. And yet, in the later years of the 20th century, we felt like we felt like we owned many of America's great cities.

We didn't.

Latoya Peterson, on the other hand, has written about the changes on U St. from the perspective of a DC resident, and what gets lost in the process:

The vision of the city is essentially being dictated to longtime residents from outside interests — or, worse, from the folks who have settled here while Obama is in office, and don't see DC as home. The newer visions for the city are heavily cosmetic and heavily skewed to a younger, moneyed class — which is causing tensions.

It's not just that DC is becoming whiter, in other words, but that it's losing the flavor that made it DC in favor of a kind of generic whiteness--one that offers an easier transition for the kinds of people who move to DC for a few years for a white-collar job, stay for a few years, and then probably move right back out. It's becoming a three-ring binder kind of town.

Belle and I don't live in the city, although I've been spending more time there lately, but we can see it happening across DC. And even in Arlington, you can see the cultural shapes of neighborhoods being smoothed out as the demographics change. In Clarendon, just down the road, it's like a wave of yuppie-dom rolled eastward up Wilson Boulevard, out from the Whole Foods and the Crate and Barrel towards the row of small, slightly disreputable shops around the Metro station. Over the last three years, buildings have been torn down. Businesses have been replaced with chains and upscale eateries. Houses got bigger, and parking has been rezoned to protect property values, and to drive visitors into the garages.

It's not like Clarendon was a historic area the way that U Street is. Development there was historically driven in large part by another artificial factor: the Clarendon Metro. Like Ballston and Court House, it flourished when WMATA opened the station, which is a perfect example of how infrastructure determines destiny. And it has long been a shopping district with its fair share of large brands. But that used to be mixed in with a range of local places, including a decent selection of Vietnamese restaurants. Those are almost all gone now, replaced in part by a CVS and the largest AT&T store I've ever seen.

I am by no means comparing suburban Virginia to the systematic revision of a historically-multicultural urban center, mind you. But I'm glad we're having the conversation. It reminds me of the debate a few years back over Wal-Mart driving family businesses into bankrupty in small towns. Maybe it's just that I moved out of a small town, but I don't really hear that discussion any more, as if the pushback from communities has faded away. It would be a shame for the forces of gentrification to win the same battle of attrition. Because as far as I'm concerned, if the city doesn't challenge you--if it isn't stuffed to the gills with different textures and experiences--why bother living there at all?

The entrepreneurs in DC work fast: they've actually had these for a week. For my money, though, these aren't nearly as eye-popping as the post-election shirts with Obama's grinning mug superimposed onto the famous Ali-over-Liston photo--a surreal, hilarious juxtaposition.

The carpenter's union in DC is very active, with regular protests around the Golden Triangle, but you don't see them bring The Rat out much. Maybe it's hard to find parking for him.

I like that he seems to have jumped up onto the hybrid in his rage, causing the hood and hatchback to fly open as he crushes it under his massive, scabby feet. It's like a scene from Michael Bay's remake of The Rats of N.I.M.H.

It really is "too weird for the Wire" that, according to Washington Monthly, black defendents in Baltimore courts are trying to use a legal defense first proposed and popularized by white supremacists, including Terry Nichols. But it's also a tribute to the lasting appeal of conspiracy theories, which tend to resurrect themselves whenever people feel like their lives are out of control, and to the suspicion with which many city residents hold the government.

"I've got three articles in here," the Street Sense vendor says proudly.

"Oh yeah?" I ask.

"This one here on the front page," he says, pointing to an op-ed about being in a relationship while homeless. "This one about the Patriots, and..." He searches for a moment, unable to find a third, but unwilling to give up a perfectly good line of patter: "...and I'm top of the sales rankings, thanks to good people like yourself."

He is indeed. In fact, he's got almost twice the number of sales of the next highest vendor, perhaps thanks (as his op-ed notes) to the natty-looking suit he wears under the bright yellow Street Sense caution vest. Although the location--corner of L and 18, in the middle of the suit-and-tie-mandatory Golden Triangle--probably doesn't hurt.

I should have asked which he enjoys more, the writing or the selling. Or does he use the former to give him an edge on the latter? It certainly worked for me.

One of my goals during the holiday period is to finish an intro jingle for CQ multimedia. We'll need special-purpose songs as well, but a general-purpose clip to "sound like CQ" will come in handy, similar to the NPR or XM channel themes. An idea I quite like is to take samples of field recordings from around the city and incorporate them into the melody.

Unfortunately, I'm not sure DC has enough of a sonic character for this kind of thing. In San Francisco, I'd put in the sounds of trolley cars. In New York, shouting and car horns would play a role. But what sounds like DC? Once I've taped the Metro, I'm not sure where else to go, other than lawmaker speeches. Any suggestions from locals?

As ethnic foods go, Ethiopian is maybe an acquired taste. The usual meal consists of lots of vegetable sides, surrounding a pile of spicy beef or lamb cubes, which you scoop up from a communal plate using a sour flatbread. I first had it about three years ago, when a photographer from the Washington Asia Press and I ditched the mayor's toydrive to get some dinner, and loved it immediately. Last night we introduced it to Belle's mom and brother via one of the better Ethiopian joints in DC, Dukem on U Street.

Oddly enough, this can be a tough sell. Some people just aren't really interested in wrapping their paws in spongy bread and scooping up handfuls of something that looks like creamed corn, something else that looks like pureed spinach, and the centerpiece of rare beef cooked with crispy, fresh tomatos. Some people have no sense of adventure. Although I'd like to say that Harry Reid, Senate Majority Leader, is clearly not one of them, since he was sitting down at a table with his family as we left. That's not really relevant to the post, I just thought it was kind of cool.

The food is one reason that I could never live away from a city. I'm still finding new flavors, either in restaurants or for my own cooking. A few days ago on a whim I stopped in at the Food Star on Columbia Pike, and found myself standing in front of a fridge shelf that was filled with six or seven kinds of chorizo, sorted by country and heat. And a few shelves over, handmade tortillas! I have been trying to find those ever since Alton Brown told me that every major city should have its own tortilla factory.

In A Cook's Tour, Anthony Bourdain spends some time on the theme of cultural tourism--both how a meal is situated in its specific circumstances, like a pig-slaughter in Portugal or roasted lamb in Morocco, and also how visiting other countries reveals some of the oddities in the American diet, such as how our middle-class prosperity has shaped our cuisine (or more specifically, left it a little shapeless). And I always go through a little bit of the same revelation when I step into one of the immigrant grocery stores.

It's not to say that DC is a serious foodie city, because I don't think it really is, and I'd never know anyway. I can't afford to eat at places like Taberna del Alabardero, much less Kinkead's or Citronelle--or at least, I like to think that I can't. It's probably easier on my wallet that way, and you can still be spoiled for choice here, like in most big cities. And there's a pretty good mix of cultural backgrounds to enjoy. I have yet to find a place that serves authentic Chinese food--though I prefer the bastardized American Chinese food to the real thing anyway--but since moving to the area I've been exposed to a variety of different cuisines, from Ethiopian tibs to Korean barbecue, and still have a list of several to try.

I think this is why I can't understand people who are genuinely anti-immigrant--not just angry about the loss of jobs, but actually upset by those dirty foreigners. I want to take the complainers to the place in Fairfax where I had pho for the first time, or to the Lebanese Taverna. Taste this! I want to say. How can you be upset by someone who makes this food? Why wouldn't we want more of those people here? We are enriched by their presence. We should have an explicit cuisine visa, as far as I'm concerned. Your food is delicious? Welcome to America.

Let's take a moment to appreciate the DC smoking ban. Over the last two years, the District of Columbia put a blanket ban on smoking in bars, restaurants, and other public places. The rationale that eventually pushed it through, from what I understand, was that workers in smoke-filled rooms should be protected from lung cancer and second-hand smoke. Business still seems to be thriving, even though critics feared a total economic collapse.

The difference it has made was really driven home to me last night when I went to an open mike at Front Page Grill just down the road in Arlington. When I got home at the end of the night, my clothes smelled awful, my skin felt dusty, and my throat was starting to act up. This was directly compared to concerts that I've attended lately in DC at the 9:30 Club and the Black Cat. To be honest, I'd forgotten about the smoking ban. It took a visit back into a venue outside its effects before I realized how great those shows had felt.

There are plenty of problems with live music. Sometimes I think I actually hate everything about rock shows except for the music--I hate being jostled by a drunken crowd, loud volumes hurt my ears, and I detest encores (mental note: this kind of statement makes you sound like you're 85 years old). The smoking ban at least takes emphysema out of the equation. I can also remember, in my college band, coming home with my guitar strap and amplifier smelling like an ashtray for a week after a gig. It'll be nice, as I start playing out again, if I can pick up the instrument sans tobacco odor.

Verdict: Smoking bans are highly recommended to the rest of the country. Get started on that before my next road trip, okay?