Washington D.C.
Coming from Philadelphia, the bus drops us off at Union Station, Washington, D.C.’s main train station. The air is warm and spicy, the afternoon golden with late-summer light. A mile-long freight train roars past us – for minutes on end. Where might it go? Into the vastness of the Midwest? To the East Coast? To the subtropical South? The country is vast, the paths manifold. So many possibilities to get lost or to arrive. To choose the right or the wrong path.
But now we are here, in the capital of this crazy country. Right in the political heart, where even in 2016 a first whiff of change is in the air. People openly identifying themselves as Trump voters with their T-shirts. Republican flags in front yards. The election is drawing near. Hardly anyone suspects yet that Washington, D.C. would itself become a political powder keg just a few years later.
A bit worn out from the bus ride, we drag ourselves to the nearest subway, take a quick glance at the fairly spectacular skyline, and continue on to our Airbnb. Today, we’re not ready for this city yet.
It’s a sweltering hot day in early September. The thermometer is quickly climbing to 40 degrees Celsius. The cool halls of the Capitol are just the place to start a day of sightseeing at a leisurely pace. The historically significant moments of U.S. and world history are concentrated along the miles-long National Mall. From the Capitol, the political center of at least the United States, through a series of museums dedicated to aviation, natural history, and art, all the way to the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial.
When we arrive at the western end in the afternoon, we’ve only seen a small part of the Mall. But we’re parched, out of water, and in need of a break. Still, we drag ourselves across the Potomac River under the relentless sun to Arlington National Cemetery. In the cooling shade of a linden tree, we doze off and gather our strength.
Suddenly, the afternoon sky darkens and heavy thunderclouds roll in. The sky turns a violet-gray – something ominous is heading toward Washington, D.C. As we stand in front of the White House, the sun disappears behind a thick wall of clouds. The first heavy raindrops fall onto the hot asphalt, leaving dark spots behind.
The expressions of the police officers and security guards do not change. Unfazed, they continue their patrols, their weapons always at the ready in their holsters. Metal fences, barriers, cameras on rooftops. Men with earpieces watch every movement in front of the fences of this famous building, where the world’s most powerful people are visiting.
Tourists are still crowding the fence, taking selfies and snapping photos quickly before the rain gets heavier. Some are laughing, others are discussing politics, Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump, wars, the economy, and the future of America.
Then the storm breaks out.
In the evening, after the thunderstorm has passed and the sky has cleared, we sit in an African restaurant. Washington in 2016 is a diverse and beautiful city. It impresses with its imposing government buildings, free museums, and what is arguably the most iconic seat of government in the world. The stone Lincoln Memorial watches over the capital, serving as a reminder of the end of slavery, of freedom, and of a united nation. But as is so often the case, monuments remain merely stones set in the world. Their meaning falls into oblivion, is reinterpreted, or erased. A memorial thrives on the attributions and associations of its respective generation.
And so Washington, D.C. is not a bastion of democracy, but a political playing field. The dead in the graves of Arlington can be mourned as unnecessary victims of senseless wars or celebrated as heroes of their nation. A united, free nation can mean complete inclusion and cohesion for all people – or be a privilege for the “right” people. And power? Power is the force that can set everything in motion – for better or for worse.
These thoughts linger as we sit on the night bus heading toward Niagara Falls.
