A Different Day

A week ago today I awoke in a tiny house in the Blue Ridge Mountains. On my to-do list: write, read, and savor the landscape. Not bad as to-do lists go.

Today's list is looking a lot more businesslike: Editing articles, writing headlines, having meetings. It's still not bad as to-do lists go, but it's significantly less creative than last week's occupations.

But how much depends on what we make of it? I write from my fifth-floor window seat (loosely construed, this term "window seat" — all it means is that my chair is pulled up close to the window) and the sun glints off the curved corner of the building next door. Leaves fly in the brisk wind, and they are gleaming too, as another day, a different day, begins.

Train Spotting

The windows of my new office overlook the main north-south railroad line in the eastern United States. So as I conduct interviews and write articles, I keep one eye peeled for the sights and sounds of a passing freight or passenger train.

Whether it's the Virginia Railway Express commuter line (one just zoomed by!), the quicksilver flash of an Amtrak engine heading up the Northeast Corridor, or one of the lumbering freights that seem to go on forever, I find this new pastime more than a little distracting.

Usually, the work of the day creates a vortex on the other side of the glass, and there could be a circus train chugging by and I wouldn't have time to ogle it. But early or late, when my eyes are prone to wander ... do I ever have a lot to see!

A Night at the Office

It was a late day at the office. Which didn't mean I was there until the wee hours, only an hour and a half later than usual, just long enough to label, transfer and prune some MP3 files that had been filling up my voice recorder.

My attention had been riveted by the screen for a couple hours, that and my inner ear, where voices from interviews I conducted months ago replayed through an earphone. It's a strange thing, listening to voices heard only once and trying to figure out who they are. It was an interior exercise, a journey into memory, aided by last year's day planner and typed notes.

But back to the matter at hand, which was the long day, the tedious task, and then, finally, completion. I clicked off my computer, packed up my things — and only when I stood up to grab my coat did I look out the window.

And there, spread out before me, was a magical sight. Offices that are drab brown and inscrutable in daylight were all lit up at night. What was normally invisible was suddenly seen. I marveled at the lights and the reflections. I marveled also at the comfort they brought. And that's when it occurred to me, something I know but too often forget — that we're never alone in our toil. Even when we think we are, there are countless others who are close by, working along beside us.

Lights, Camera?

Here in Crystal City, things are on the move. Old buildings are coming down and new ones are going up as we shed our dowdy D.C. image in favor of a hip new HQ2 vibe. Yes, it's still dear old CC, where men in dark suits dash quickly into idling SUVs. But there's a new energy here, a flash of the creative class that is to come.

I promised myself I would chronicle these changes in my own particular and unscientific way. And one of the shifts I've noticed in my own building is that stairwells now have automatic lights that go off when no one's around.

Since I exercise by walking up and down the stairs, this has come under some personal scrutiny. I begin my walk in the semi-darkness, and only as I emerge onto each landing do the lights come on. Though this makes me feel just a tad important — these lights are coming on just for me! — it also makes me feel just a tad freaked out.

I remember the phrase, "Lights, camera, action!" and wonder ... if new lights are here, can new cameras be far behind?

Exploring the Underground

The other day, on the way back from an office at the other end of my work neighborhood, I found myself once again wandering the warren of paths, shops and eateries known as the Crystal City Underground.

There are subterranean walkways in many cities — Montreal, Toronto and Chicago, to name a few — usually built for safety or warmth. In our case, mostly safety, since Crystal City has military origins.

It was about noon when I was passing through, marching directly behind a soldier in camouflage. I followed him for several minutes, thinking from his purposeful stride that he knew where he was going. By the time he peeled off into a restaurant, there were signs I could follow to find my way. 

The bustling new section I discovered has a pharmacy, a chocolate shop and a Halloween store, of all things, something I doubt it will have much longer. There were plenty of restaurants with delicious aromas. Most of all, there were people milling about, checking phones, meeting friends. It was a lively little break in the middle of a busy day — and a heartening adventure, to discover a new place so close at hand. 

Good Things Coming?

My punctual and reliable Arlington bus must now make a time-consuming detour to avoid construction in my work neighborhood. You can't walk a block without hearing jack-hammers or the truck back-up sound. Amazon's HQ2 is already making its presence known in the dusty streets, the demolition, even the scaffolding.

Having lived for five years in New York City, I consider myself a scaffolding expert. Not in the sense of knowing how to construct it, but in the sense of knowing how to walk beneath it, which used to be... gingerly.

With all due respect to Big Apple scaffolding, the Crystal City version is cleaner, sturdier — and kinder on the eyes and the feet.

In New York, I felt as if I was taking my life in my own hands to walk in a dark tunnel beneath a contraption of wood and metal. But the pedestrian walkway I take now is open and bright. It even has motivational phrases on the walls: Good Things Coming, it says.

Let's hope.

Seven Miles

Yesterday Suzanne and I went for a walk after work. It was a lovely spring afternoon, just begging to be strolled through.

We started at my office in Crystal City, and quickly angled onto the Mount Vernon Trail, dodging the high-speed through bikes on the narrower connector path. We had to talk a little louder when we got to Gravelly Point, where jets roared overhead from take-off at National Airport.

But by Memorial Bridge the air was soft and quiet. The fresh green weeping willow branches shimmered in the lowering sun.

Mostly, we talked. But sometimes we marveled, too. Washington has its monster traffic jams, but it has marvelous foot paths, too. And yesterday I felt like we were on all of them.

We walked for hours. So this morning, curious, I looked up the distance.

Seven miles. You could have fooled me. It didn't feel an inch more than five.

As the Light Allows

As the days lengthen I notice new landmarks on my evening walks through Arlington. Yesterday's "find" was discovering the Virginia Square Metro Station. I looked to the left, and there it was. Not that I was ready to ride the rails. I pushed on to the Ballston Station. But it was nice to know it was there.

My first walk on this route was late last year. I barely made it to Court House before the street lights came on. And by Clarendon it was completely dark, so I hopped on a Metro there.

I got lost on my next two forays to the neighborhood. First I swung too far to the north, the next time too far to the south. I was looking for the middle way.

It took the brighter afternoons of early spring to reveal it. Fairfax Drive, the street I was looking for, looks like a parking lot when you enter from the east. It's only when you stroll a few yards beyond the entry way that you see it blossom into a road. This is not something I could discern in darkness or even in dusk; full daylight was required.

I like discovering this neighborhood little by little, as the light allows.

Flowers, Real and Imagined

Here in Crystal City, folks are trying hard. Brightly patterned skins have gone over the gray stone buildings, blank walls have sprout faux gardens, while not far away a sheltered cherry tree breaks into early bloom.

A colleague thinks we're trying to lure Amazon's HQ2, and that may be the case.

But all the paint and netting in the world can't camouflage the button-downed corporate soul of this place. The only thing that does that for me are the people. At lunchtime on a warm day, the place is full of life. Pale office workers play ping-pong or corn hole. Smokers linger longer in front of buildings. Bikers and runners mingle on the sidewalks.

So if paint and netting bring out the people, then bring them on!

New Walk, Continued

The new walk is becoming a habit, the perfect way to unwind at the end of the day. I jump off the bus at one Metro stop, but walk two more stops up the road before boarding a train. The key word is "up."

It's about a mile from Rosslyn Metro to Clarendon Metro, but that doesn't include the elevation gain, a number I've yet to locate but which feels mighty big when you're hoofing it with a laptop at the end of a long workday.

One might be tempted to lag behind, like this little guy. But this little guy does not realize that Le Pain Quotidien is only a few blocks away — and that their crusty baguettes can be gone by 5:45. Nothing like a little French bread to put a skip in your step.

Though I fantasize about townhouses I pass along the way (so cute, so close in!), my walk leads not to a quaint bungalow — but a subway platform.  Not always as crowded as this one, I'm happy to say. But a subway platform just the same.