This past week was one of the strangest and busiest of the year. Somewhat spur of the moment, I decided to head down to Washington, DC on Thursday to apply for a tourist visa for some upcoming travel to Brazil.
I used to live in DC and, after I moved, promised myself I would never go back. No need, and absolutely no desire. It became this mythical beast in my mind. However, when it came down to the choice of going to DC to give myself a good chunk of time for my visa (which worked!) or cutting it far too close for comfort in NY, I went with DC.
To my surprise, it was kind of nice to go visit as a tourist again. To see the monuments, and statues, and museums, and all those white, official buildings. Though, it still felt better to go home. Getting off the bus in NY, I was overwhelmed with the reminder of how much this city pushes you, the constant change, that ongoing dance between ambition and art and excitement and all of the people in Manhattan just vibrating like little neon signs. It means so much more to me.
And in celebration, I went to Rockaway Beach for the first time over the weekend. There’s something so awesome about beaches in NY. To get off the subway and walk into the sand is surreal, and utterly urban. And the lifeguards have the best accents in the entire world. I love it.