you can't always get what you want

I feel like parts of our vacation need a do-over.

The Washington Monument is still closed due to the earthquake last year. The Reflecting Pool on the National Mall was drained, and the areas on either side were walled off for construction. The Statue of Liberty was closed for refurbishments. Parts of Ellis Island were  under construction, making it impossible to access some of the walls bearing the names of immigrants. The ramps in the Guggenheim were closed for installation. The Museum of Comic and Cartoon Art is completely closed while they install their summer exhibits.

Disappointing, but I have to look on the bright side. We've seen more in just a few weeks than most people see in their lifetime. The forecast has been for rain in every city we've visited thus far, but we've been blessed with clear skies and warm temperatures. My fiance and I have yet to get into a fight, despite my penchant for becoming "hangry" if I don't eat at least every three hours.

And maybe all the construction and closures are a blessing in disguise. We now have very solid reasons for visiting these places in the future. If we had seen everything we set out to on this trip, we might not be so inclined to visit again. I'm not rooting for more closures and construction on this trip, but if they come I'll take them in stride.

You're never going to get a perfect trip, but so far our's has been pretty darn great.

and i'm gonna go wild, spray paint the walls

I love my fiance. He is hilarious and we have a lot of fun when we're together. I try not to take things too seriously, and he does a great job of bringing me back to earth when I do. For the most part, his inappropriate and off color remarks are a welcome distraction.

But God love him, he can really embarrass me in art museums.

Our visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art started off well enough. After our initial shock at how big the place is (we didn't even see half of its massive collection), we picked a route and started walking through. The Egyptian Wing was met with some enthusiasm, though not much. My fiance admitted he didn't know much about that period of history, but thought everything "looked pretty cool." He did enjoy The Temple of Dendur, though I suspect that had a little more to do with a scene from When Harry Met Sally being filmed there than with the temple itself. But hey, I'll take what I can get.

We quickly passed through the American Wing, and on to the Arms and Armor rooms. This was a big hit. Being the resident photographer of our trip, I was instructed to take photos every five seconds. The scrapbook I eventually make will be very gun and sword heavy. Then on the Greek and Roman Art (another quick stroll, having visited The Getty Villa together last year), and on through Arts of Africa, Oceania, and the Americas.

Then we hit a wall. A chasm in philosophy, between what is art and what isn't.

"This isn't art," my fiance said, louder than I cared for. "It's not art if I can do it!"
"It is art. The point isn't that you could do it. It's that nobody at that time was doing it."
"No, it's not art. It's just squares."

This isn't the first time we've had this discussion, and I know it won't be the last. I was an illustration major. I took more art history classes than I can count. While I may not like some Modern Art, I understand it in the context of art as a whole. It's another step in mankind's creative evolution.

We continued through the Modern Art, which brought more snarky comments from the fiance, until I finally threw in the towel. Today was not going to be the day he had a breakthrough in thinking. (Though he did love the two Chuck Close portraits on display that day.) I quickly shuttled him to the European Paintings. Van Gogh, Monet, Seurat... those he can enjoy. They're more than abstract shapes. And to be fair, I'd rather have any of them hanging on my wall than a Jackson Pollack.

I'll keep trying though. One of these days he might start to like Mark Rothko. You never know.

and all i have to do is act naturally

There is something unnatural about the American Museum of Natural History. Don't get me wrong, it's a very cool place. You'd be remiss to visit New York and skip it. But there is something odd and even a little unsettling about the museum. At least that's how it seemed to us.

Walking through the Hall of African Mammals, we got our first look at the famous dioramas. Zebras drink from a watering hole. A lion pride surveys a field, looking for its next meal. Massive elephants dominate the center of the room. It was exactly what I had expected, yet somehow it felt strange.

Living in San Diego means I have visited its zoo more times than I can count. I'm used to seeing animals behind glass, they're just usually moving. But when you really think about it, aren't zoos just as weird, if not more so? Is it better to take a dead animal and pose it for eternal display, or remove a live one from its environment and confine it to a cage for the rest of its life? Neither is a true example of how the animal looks and acts in the wild.

The rest of the museum (save for the fourth floor, where they keep the dinosaurs and other fossils) feels just as strange, almost like stepping back in time or into a Wes Anderson movie. Artifacts are displayed in the most straight forward way; lined up in orderly fashion within glass display cases, or placed on mannequins. No muss, no fuss.

While my 20th/21st century eye sees this as dated, it was actually ahead of its time in the 1920s and 1930s when the museum was really taking shape. Great care and detail were used in creating the taxidermy dioramas, creating displays that sharply contrasted with the rigid stuffing typically used at the time. The display on evolution was the only major American exhibition of its kind in 1921. The AMNH worked closely with cultural anthropologists Franz Boas and Margaret Mead, who both revolutionized the field.

The American Museum of Natural History isn't the flashiest, but it is itself a slice of New York history. When you view the dioramas, you are viewing the same display seen by visitors over 70 years ago. You are walking in the footsteps of New York's rich and poor, old and young, tourists and locals.

you're a grand old flag

If you hate American patriotism, do not visit Fort McHenry. Here you will see one of the most patriotic displays I have ever seen outside of the Fourth of July.

Upon entering the visitor's center, you are invited to watch a short film explaining the history of the fort. For those not in the know, Fort McHenry is the site of the events which inspired Francis Scott Key to write "The Star Spangled Banner" during the War of 1812. OK, now that we're all caught up...

The film includes reenactments of the battle, interspersed with informative maps to illustrate the movement of American and British troops. The story reaches it's conclusion, with F.S. Key finding inspiration after a long night of battle. The national anthem begins to swell. Then the screen on which the movie is playing dramatically lifts to reveal a view of the real life Fort McHenry, flag proudly waving in the wind.

Not being at a sporting event and having been expressly instructed to stand, I remain seated. There is movement to my left. Other visitors have stood. Unsure of what to do, I remain seated. Are you supposed to stand every time you hear the national anthem? I can't remember my high school government lessons. Did we even learn that in high school? My Australian fiance also remains seated, but not being American he has a legitimate excuse.* I slyly look to my right. Other visitors have also remained seated, but they are old and also have a legitimate excuse not to stand. The anthem ends, and the screen lowers to set itself for the next viewing.

I feel like a real dick. Clearly I should have stood. My only option now is to let my fiance do all the talking so everyone thinks I'm Australian. But then he starts asking me question which I must answer, so people hear my non-Aussie accent. I secretly hope they think I'm Canadian.

After walking through the small museum inside, we head outdoors and start to walk the park surrounding the fort. As we pass the visitor's center, you can see the window blocked by the movie screen.

"We should just stand right in front of the window with our mouths open," my fiance jokes.
I laugh, "No, we should stand further up on the hill and moon the next group."

I know I should respect my history a little more, but the movie screen is a bit much. And perhaps I feel that way because I was lucky enough to be born in the USA in the first place, and take for granted how easy my life has been because of this. My friend we are staying with told us how her mother, a newly minted American citizen, burst into tears when the movie screen was raised. She's English, but has lived in the US for over two decades now. Her life has been easier than others, but being an American still means something to her. She's genuinely excited to vote for the first time. Her husband is ready to buy a gun just because he can. They are ready to take on all the rights and responsibilities that come with owning this country.

That I can definitely respect.

*He was wearing a Captain America shirt at the time, so some people may have thought he was a dick as well.

fly me to the moon

It's noon on Sunday, and my fiancé and I are having lunch at Kennedy Space Center. We are sitting at a cafe located in a large, warehouse-type building which houses a Saturn V rocket. The place is eerily quite. Even as bus groups arrive, the volume never lifts above a low conversation. After the constant roar of Universal and Disney, it's a little unsettling.

The noise level isn't the only thing that's different. Throughout the day I've noticed that the average KSC visitor is easily over 50. There are a few younger people, mostly foreigners, and families with small children. But I can't help but notice that gray hair and Hawaiian shirts dominate the facility.

As a kid, my family vacations always included something educational. We never visited Disney World, but I did see the St. Louis Arch, Laura Ingalls Wilder's Mansfield home, local state parks, and many state capitals. Museums and art galleries are still some of our favorite places to visit, thanks to my mom's insistence on taking us from a young age.

Part of this was out of necessity-- theme parks are expensive; historical sites are cheap, often free. But even if my parents had had a bigger budget to work with, I know they still would have favored history over pure amusement. Historical sites, campgrounds, museums, etc. are often more fun. They're certainly less crowded, the food is usually better (and reasonably priced), and the quality time spent together is more meaningful when it doesn't take place in the hour long line for Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.

And aren't historical sites and museums the places children should be visiting anyway? It's one thing to learn about American history in the classroom, but it's much more meaningful seeing it in person. You can be told that the Saturn V rocket (the one that got us to the moon) is longer than a football field, but to actually see it... well, it's really amazing.

But maybe kids don't find that amazing anymore. Landing on the moon is old news. Going into space is just another thing we do. Or rather, another thing we did. With the grounding of the space shuttle fleet, NASA's space program is slipping further into the past. Further from our grasp. Further from our imaginations.

i wanna sink to the bottom with you

When I saw Titanic years ago, I cried. Before you start to scoff, let me state that I was only 12 years old, and due to receive my first period within a couple months. Also, those the old people curling up on the bed are adorably sad, and if that doesn't at least tug at your heart strings then you are clearly a robot/android/jerk-face.

 I managed to avoid seeing the 3-D re-release of the film, but I couldn't pass up Titanic: The Artifact Exhibition (currently showing at the San Diego Natural History Museum).

The exhibition features objects raised from the sea floor, set among recreations of cabins and period dressed actors for effect. There's even an iceberg. It's very cold.

While I liked the exhibit, it left me with mixed feelings. The Titanic itself is very much a grave site, which is now essentially being plundered for profit. Yet, how many other exhibits have I attended are also filled with plundered loot from the graves of the deceased? Do I feel differently because only 100 years has passed since the Titanic's sinking? Or maybe it's because these are rich white folks?*

Maybe I'm just over-thinking things, as I'm prone to do. The exhibit is educational, and really well done. The bulk of artifacts are personal possessions, making it easy to relate to individual passengers. And maybe that's the point of the whole thing: to remind us that we are not infallible. Our lives are random, and could cease at any moment.


*I haven't seen the movie since the early 2000s, but apparently third class was not as squalid as it appeared on the big screen. You had to be pretty well off to afford even the cheapest cabins. Their menus didn't seem to shabby either.