The next month, I took Apollo on a run at the National Mall. Apollo took flight as he often does, but this time, he went higher and further than ever before. Oh my goodness, I conveyed an expression of blunder. I had gotten so careless that I had forgotten to trim his wings, and suddenly high above the Mulberry trees along the scenic mall, Apollo found freedom.
I looked everywhere for Apollo, even bringing along his cage, his Bonka Bird toy, rattling in the wind. I scattered sunflower seeds and peanuts everywhere and had to fight off the squirrels who had a field day. Sadly, he was nowhere to be found. Like a menacing tween, he had skipped school, and he was not yet ready to return to his distressed patriarch. The massive magnolias along the miles-long cinder path served as an ideal refuge for him, while the Capitol dome and the Washington Monument obelisk served as landmarks.
“Apollo, please come home to Papa!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. As sunset beckoned, I came to the sad conclusion that my wails were been drowned by the hustle and bustle of young people and tourists mingling on the grassy fields.
Soon the sun was shadowed by the majestic, iron dome of the Capitol, and I would return the next day to make my unwavering attempt. At daybreak, when the sun’s rays bathed the Lincoln Memorial in golden sunlight, I was roving up and down the grassy turf searching for my wanderlust feathered friend. I played a scratchy recording of his chirping. It sounded promising, but after a while, the raspy screams only commingled with the purrs from the cormorants and the buzz from the sparrows. GW University just so happened to be hosting its commencement ceremony at noon, so soon there would be several hundred black caps and gowns and excited families scurrying all along the mall.
Since I couldn’t physically search, I would leverage social media. My Facebook posting gained some traction and I started to get excited when Zach Peirce mentioned that one of the graduating students saw Apollo hanging out on top of a standing fan, just screaming away. So she called the Washington Humane Society who readily captured him.
I immediately called them and was overjoyed when they informed me that my poor Apollo was in safekeeping.
Apollo was home now, and he would join me on more runs and escapades throughout D.C. But this time, I would ensure his flight feathers were properly trimmed and his favorite Bonga Bird toy within arm’s reach.
In 2011, I kicked off the EU Embassy Run as a casual run on a whim. I coerced a couple of friends to join and for the last several years, a small gaggle would gather at the French Embassy and run 13 miles visiting a dozen tightly-packed embassies along the way, ending up at the Austrian Embassy in Van Ness in NW D.C.
By 2014, I wanted to expand the run, so I contacted Rick Amernick to post the event on the DC Capital Striders homepage. Surprisingly, 40 eager runners signed up. We were indeed bursting at the seams, but there was room for one more stowaway — Apollo who would fly alongside and blithely perch on people’s shoulders. Apollo was a veteran runner who has enjoyed going on long-running excursions with me throughout this sociable city. Naturally, Apollo loved to fly, but with his wings clipped, he wouldn’t go too far, normally to the nearest shoulder or to a low-hanging limb.
On May 10, 2014, the jaunt started at the Embassy of France and followed Reservoir Road through Georgetown, before climbing uphill on Wisconsin Ave.
Then we meandered our way through Embassy Row visiting Greece, Ireland, and Romania successively.
There were a lot of cultures to experience and of course fabulous food tastings not to mention the most magnificent, crisp lagers this side of heaven.
My neighbor, Quentin Cummings ran along and was more than eager to imbibe on traditional European beer along the way.
Throughout the run, we proudly raised the dark blue flag with a circle of twelve yellow stars and ran at a steady pace until reaching Austria and Slovakia on International Drive. There, we celebrated and rejoiced when we reached the coveted black and white checkered flag.
“Say, the run is picking up speed with D.C. locals. Why don’t you organize an official run next year? Have people register online so people can commit ahead of time,” Rick suggested.
“That’s a great idea. Charge a nominal fee and raise money for charity. I can also get T-Shirts printed out and put our logos on the front.
To have the honor to lead 45 amazing runners, along a scenic, occasionally hilly 13-mile journey starting from France and ending at Austria. All enjoyed a diverse cultural experience! Thank you Runin Out for creating such a fun and memorable event and thanks to #RunnersWorld for enduring the busy streets to photograph our entire run! This year’s event turned out to be an awesome adventure! Next years promises to be EPIC!
The week after the run, I gave Rick a call.
“Hey remember that Lebanese bistro on Connecticut Ave that we passed on the way to the Hungary and Czech Embassies?”
“Yup, the Taverna. Love their hummus — great protein-infused snack to fuel up right before a long run.”
“Well, we can’t make Lebanon a part of the EU, but we can definitely host a meetup and entice runners with healthy Mediterranean cuisine paired with a high-energy form of dancing?”
The following week, runners from all over the DMV came in droves to appreciate the benefits of consuming hummus with tahini and shaking hips to develop core strength.
Asala’s willowy arms and legs moved in synch, captivating and charming Lebanese guests and runners alike. Her trademark was attractive and personable, and she was easily able to entice hardy runners to join her.
Rick raised his arms like a ballet dancer. “Have to say, this is the most exotic event, we’ve hosted so far. Great way to train for a marathon.”
I raised my arms in unison. “You guys are totally hot. Women dig dudes who can dance.”
Orlando swung his hips smoothly like Fred Astaire. “Yes, that was a blast. Enjoyed balancing the air cake on my head. That was no joke a cakewalk.”
Asala reached over to pick up a prop. “Glad you enjoyed it. Since you thought it was cake, you can balance my sword next time. And you better not drop it on your toes.”
Orlando picked up the curved sword and felt the sharp blade with his hand. “Yes, that does seem quite dangerous. Girl, you got talent.”
“Next time, I’ll bring my Shamadan Candelabra. Men who incite danger are inspired by the sight of fire.”
I used a spare tablecloth to mimic Asala’s magic motions. “My personal favorite are Asala’s wings. They’re colorful and shiny and quite dramatic.”
Rick took a large bite from his shawarma slider. “And the food was indeed healthy and appetizing. If I ate here regularly, I wouldn’t need to run every day.”
“So happy you all enjoyed it, and I am thrilled with the audience participation. I perform every Thursday. Tell all your friends to come — it’s more challenging than yoga and more fun than running.”
Charlie came by to check on the setting of the tables. “Yes, we need to fill up the restaurant. We love to bring in new guests who will also enjoy our food.”
I raised a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon to my lips. “How ‘bout we host a fundraiser here next time. We can just host RUNINOut events in conjunction with Asala’s performances.”
“Well get our fattoush and tabbouleh featured prominently online, and we’ll be happy to provide you with all the hummus you want for future events and fundraisers.”
“Thank you so much, Charlie! Can I have another Almaza please?”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough already? BTW, next week, you should visit Grace, the owner, at the original Taverna in Arlington. Maybe she’s got more work for you to do. I know they need a new website to feature all their locations.”
In the following months, we held fundraisers for We Are Family Senior Outreach Network and the Association of Young Americans. Together, we had saved the Raqs Baladi events from the chopping block.
The working relationship with Lebanese Taverna, local meetups and Asala El Masri would pay off splendidly for months to come.
Donald “Clay” Clay, an Air Force veteran, was enjoying his stogie while chit chatting with friends, watching boats slipping by. On every weekday afternoon when the weather is fine, he and a half dozen of his perennial friends such as Robert “Bleu” Jones and Kimo Tavares gather at the Slip Inn to chill, booze up and snack on the crowd-favorite George wings. No one knows for sure why they call them George, but rumor is one of the cooks from the earliest days in the 80s came up with the secret breading.
The Tiki bar and restaurant wasn’t located in the Navy Yard, Old Town Alexandria or the National Harbor — places packed with tourists. Instead it was tucked away at the edge of Joint Base Anacostia Bolling, a well-kept secret amongst retirees. That’s why Clay, Bleu and a handful of old timers made it a daily ritual when the clouds are clear and the skies are blue.
And the weather forecast for the next three days was bright and promising. There was a ton of activity as military personnel and their families kicked off the glorious weekend with Country Western Night featuring a local, up-and-coming talent.
Sara Gray is a singer, song-writer from Indian Head, MD., just down the beaten river in Southern Maryland. The first time she sang in public was at the age of three on a cruise ship — from the soundtrack of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. She watched her father sing in his local band, then started performing at church and has rendered the National Anthem at various community events. At 16, she wrote her first song and her budding repertoire focuses on country and classic rock. For the last year, her schedule has been in high demand, opening for country stars such as Toby Keith, Dierks Bentley, the Zac Brown Band and Luke Bryan and performing all over the DMV.
Sara Gray covering”Cowboy Take Me Away”Sara Gray loves audience participation
“I’m so happy to be on the stage where I feel right at home. I love getting the crowd involved, clapping, dancing and singing along. They inspire me.”
Justin Voskuil bartending at the Slip Inn Tiki BarSara Gray singing her original “One of A Kind”
I met Wirut just outside the Irish Channel a year ago when he was opening up a noodle and sushi bar next door.
“sah-wah-dee.”
“Have you been to Thailand, the ‘Land of Smiles’?”
“Yes, Phuket, twice, both times by boat — when I was 5, living on a sailboat and at 17 on a frigate with the Navy.”
Wirut came over to show me some pictures of the beautiful island. “I’m from Bangkok but enjoy visiting Phuket. So much to see and do there just like D.C. and the cuisine is out of this world.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more. And I think it’s a wonderful idea to open up an Asian noodle bar here this side of Chinatown. There’s lots of noodle shops here, but almost all are Chinese – so an Asian fusion noodle shop will do well next to an Irish pub. They’ll come here to work off their drunk.”
And I would go to Absolute Noodle and Sushi to work on their website while slurping on udon noodles with bulgogi and sipping on Asian pear sake.
Like with many restaurants, I worked for a paycheck and a tab, so this was an excellent way to invite my friends for a meal and a chance for them to meet the manager and chef.
In early February, I invited food bloggers Jackie Woodbury, Bindesh Shrestha, and Simone Griffin, whom I had worked with on a writing project eons ago. I had not seen her since she spent a year working in China, and Simone loved Asian noodles.
Simone & Jackie reviewing menu with Wirut at Absolute Noodle
Working with Wirut also opened the door to working with their sister restaurant, Absolute Thai, down the road and owned by the couple Nay and Poupee.
Poupee showed me their outdated website. “We need to photograph all the dishes on our menu. Americans find Thai names long and confusing.”
March 11, 2014
I was expecting a large turnout. I invited a lot of friends as well as marketed the event on Meetup. For $5, you got a good sample of a wide variety of dishes from the menu.
The drunken noodles were perfectly spicy, smothered in basil chili oil. The pad see ew’s sauce was sweet and savory. The red curry with roasted duck was creamy with big chunks of pineapple. The curry puffs were crispy and flaky and stuffed with flavorful chunks of goodness.
Owners Nay and Poupee were happy to showcase their savory, spicy flavors to an eclectic group of desk jockeys who were delighted to get out of their cubicles and into the mix.
And I was pleased to greet every one of them.
Kanita serving Orlando Thai crispy wings
Kanita Williams enjoyed the Thai basil fried rice, and the crispy chicken wings with sweet chili sauce poured on top. “Helped a client get a DUI case dismissed today. It wasn’t easy, so everybody here, please catch a train or taxi home.”
“I’m walking, but if I ever get busted for a DUI, I want to be represented by you,” Orlando Darden said as he picked up a piece of chicken wing.”
Quentin Edwards took a bite of his shrimp spring roll dipped in peanut sauce. “Hey, Orlando, careful; those wings may be loaded with MSG.”
“That’s ok, cuz tomorrow, Kanita and I are going for a long run. She’s getting close to fulfilling her 10 lbs weight loss challenge. So I’ll allow her to splurge on special occasions.”
Jackie, Sophie & Yoomie
Jackie took a bite of her crispy vegetarian spring roll. “I’ll say this is a special occasion — a lot larger than the noodle place down the street. We must host an event together sometime.”
This event proved that Thai cuisine is loved by people from all around the world.
Natalia from Ukraine
There was Natalia, a woman from Ukraine, a graduate student at GWU who worked as a bartender at the Tabard Inn, a classic boutique hotel near Dupont Circle.
Sophie Mebarki & Timothy Kim
And Anne-Sophie Mebarki, a French girl who would be completing her bachelor’s from Catholic University this May. “I would like to work for a startup, and I love food. Are you hiring?”
“Absolutely, we have internships available. You should meet Suzannah, who speaks French fluently.
Yoomie Huynh admiring the shrimp noodles
Yoomie Huynh immigrated to Sioux City, Iowa, from South Vietnam with her family in 1985 due to the economic and social aftermaths of the Vietnam War. “Have you heard of Four Sisters in Virginia? Their family serves amazing Vietnamese dishes beyond pho.”
Then there was Quentin Edwards, who lived just a block from me in Anacostia. His Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) office was a block from the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum. “I work only seven blocks from Chinatown, so I can come to more of your events.”
Quentin Edwards @ Absolute Thai
“Well since you love to run, you are welcome to join our EU Embassy Run this May? It’s kind of like a half marathon combined with an adventure race.”
“Absolutely, I’m planning to do a Tough Mudder this fall, so this will be a good forerunner.”
The political pulse of Washington, D.C. beat strong and steady, with politics woven into the fabric of daily life. It was against this backdrop that I received a call from Jim McBride, president and founder of the grassroots organization, Network for Progress, Jim, a hope monger and change-maker deeply involved in Generation Obama, shared his enthusiasm for my events and how well our groups complemented each other.
“We have a special event in mind,” Jim began. “A Super PAC is in town and wants to host a happy hour in D.C. Someplace centrally located, good food with a breezy deck.”
Our conversation naturally turned to politics, as it often did in this town. The Super PAC aimed to encourage Joe Biden to run for the presidency, just in case Hillary’s email server controversy jeopardized her chances. The idea was not only to support Biden but also to honor his late son, Beau Biden, through a fundraiser for the Fisher House Foundation . The Bidens’ commitment to serving military families made it a fitting tribute.
June 4, 2015
Will Pierce, a tall 26-year-old with a beaming smile is also a veteran of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq and has worked for Hillary Clinton’s campaign in 2008 and volunteered for Obama’s that same year. Recently, he took on a new role, becoming a dedicated advocate for Joe Biden’s potential presidential run. Will’s passion for seeing Biden enter the race and his belief in the positive change Biden could bring to the country drove him to form the Super PAC “Draft Biden.”
“We don’t want to see another Bush or Clinton in the White House,” said Will. “We’re trying to show Biden that the majority of Americans would welcome seeing him run.”
Will, reflecting on Biden’s life and challenges, commented on how difficult it was to decipher the Vice President’s thoughts at that moment. Despite the unimaginable tragedy of losing his wife and one-year-old daughter in a car accident back in 1972, Biden didn’t step back or resign. Instead, he transformed that heart-wrenching experience into a source of strength, propelling him forward into a career dedicated to public service.
Jim expressed his satisfaction with the amazing turnout and the overwhelming support that poured in following Beau’s tragic passing. He believed that this groundswell of affection and encouragement might persuade the Vice President to enter the race for the presidency.
Surprisingly, even amidst the weight of Beau’s untimely death, the atmosphere was far from somber. The event managed to draw the presence of many attendees, including familiar faces like Mike Araman, Kobe Owens, Sue Schwartzberg, and Leonard Tyson, creating a sense of camaraderie and shared purpose during this pivotal moment in American politic
“I would support either Biden or Clinton in the White House,” said Mike, a seasoned political enthusiast, his confidence in his choice evident. “Whoever wins the GOP nomination won’t stand a chance against any of them.”
“There are too many seats in the Supreme Court that is up for nomination next term. We definitely need a Democrat in the White House,” said Leonard.
By the end of the night. A sizable amount of money was raised to provide free or low cost lodging to veterans and families receiving medical treatment. Supporters gathered to honor the Biden family’s contribution to the nation and support a great cause in memory of a great man, and everyone seemed to have a good time mingling and catching up with old friends.
A couple of months later, another call from Jim.
“August 6 is the first Republican Primary Debate,” Jim announced. “It’ll be a GOP Clown show for sure.”
“Yes, it’s hard to believe that Donald Trump is leading in the polls and lapping Cruz by double digits.”
“Can we host a rooftop event where we’re offered a panoramic view of the Capitol?”
Armin Armin of Chaplin’s recommended I visit Cambria hotel down the road. “It’s where I stay when I’ve knocked back a drink or two, and I’ve gotta get up early in the morning. They have an indoor rooftop pool and a nice lounge with a stellar view of the city.”
“Great suggestion, the Cambria near the D.C. Convention Center is the perfect location,” Jim responded.
“I’ll talk to Evan Walton, the Director of Food and Beverage to see if he can offer specials on select apps and bar drinks.”
“We also would like to televise Jon Stewart’s last ‘Daily Show’ after the Debate. He’s bidding farewell that night.”
“He’s a legendary pundit and BS caller. We’ll definitely miss him.”
“Yup after watching ten candidates for four hours play musical chairs, we”ll be bored to tears.”
“Well, music always goes well with politics and allegiances are expressed well in song. Lemme tap into my Rolodex and contact a few musicians who can add joviality to the evening.”
I remembered watching Flo Anito perform at the H Street Festival and enjoyed listening to her Jazz Pop on keys and guitar. Her raspy voice was addictive, and she has a large vocal range (3.5 octaves) reminding me of the highly expressive voice of Fiona Apple.
Flo Anito singing ‘No Dust Bunnies’.
Classically trained in voice, piano, and ‘cello, Flo began her singer/songwriter career at age 16 when she got her hands on her first guitar. She graduated from Wesleyan University in Connecticut with a B.A. in Music, and has lived and performed in the D.C. area ever since.
Flo has graced some of DC’s biggest stages: Strathmore, Wolf Trap, Merriweather Post Pavilion, the Birchmere, Blues Alley, the Fillmore, Hamilton Live, and Bethesda Blues & Jazz as well as dozens of annual festivals in the DMV.
“We’d love to be a part of this great event. I’ll make sure we have some exciting specials on apps and drinks for the evening. It’s going to be a fantastic night,” said Evan the food and beverage director.
A week before the event, we were pleased to see that over 100 had RSVP’d and the numbers just kept rising.
Jim exuded a big smile. “We’ve never gotten this kind of response for any of our events, not even the State of the Union or our annual Charity Date Auction.”
By the end of the night over 500 people had congregated at the Cambria some socializing and networking, some fully absorbed in the Debate, many enjoying the jazzy tunes from local favorite, Flo Anito belting out originals such as “Uh Oh!” and “Man of the Year” from her amazing album “No Dustbunnies”
We’ll have a big romance, straight off the silver screen
We’ll have a picket fence and the lawn of Kelly Green.
And I’ll sing my happy tune as I push my vacuum
And I’ll dust every room, you won’t find no dust bunnies.
“Thank you all so much for being here,” Flo expressed her gratitude as she took a moment to address the crowd. “Your energy is infectious, and it’s an honor to be part of such an exciting event. Let’s keep the spirit high and the music flowing!” With a beaming smile, she launched into another soulful melody, enchanting the audience with her captivating voice. When Flo sang, there were shades of Adele and Regina Spektor, and she created something new that captivated the audience.
Jim clapped exuberantly. “You were superb Flo. You should do more political functions. You’ve brought excitement to a boring debate.”
The turnout was extraordinary. It helped greatly that our event got a lot of play in the Wall Street Journal, D.C.ist, and other local media. For many Millennials, they were still in high school when Obama won the election and their vote would be critical in deciding the dynamics of the election.
When it was Trump’s turn to talk, he was greeted with a cacophony of boos.
“No way, will Donald Trump win the GOP nomination,” Mike Araman remarked.
A random intern chimed in, expressing their disapproval. “He’s a racist, sexist, ignorant, and divisive,” they remarked, mirroring the sentiments of many at the gathering.
Mike leaned forward, his eyes reflecting a mixture of excitement and concern. “You know, guys, this election season is turning out to be quite a show. Trump’s surge in the GOP has certainly made this race far more interesting. But whether he goes up against Hillary or if Joe Biden decides to enter the race, we’re in for a fascinating political showdown.”
The room fell into contemplative silence for a moment as everyone absorbed Mike’s words, knowing that the future held many uncertainties and potential twists in the political journey they were all embarking upon.
Jim chimed in, “These debates and events are essential in shaping the public’s perception of the candidates. It’s not just about the candidates themselves; it’s also about the voters and what they want to see in their leaders. That’s why events like this one are crucial in the lead-up to the election. They provide a platform for discussing the issues that matter to the people.”
Jim had a remarkable knack for always offering witty and pertinent comments at precisely the right moments. He had an inherent ability to infuse both humor and insight into his discussions, creating an engaging atmosphere for everyone present. Jim’s passion for politics shone through in his clever remarks, leaving no doubt about his deep appreciation for the political process.
“We kept the roof open for folks to enjoy the breathtaking views and then return downstairs for the food, fun, and mingling,”
Evan noted. “We managed to set a record for the number of attendees in our first year here in Shaw, and it was truly heartening to see people from all corners of the city choosing Cambria for such a historic event.”
As the debate unfolded, it became evident who the true winners were that night – our dedicated events team, the exceptional talent, the fantastic hotel (of course), and the passionate D.C. politicos, everyone but Trump.
Jim and I left that evening with a shared determination to continue hosting engaging political events in the run-up to the elections. While the dynamics of the race were uncertain, one thing was crystal clear: the political landscape was undergoing significant changes, and the upcoming election season promised to be historic and full of surprises. The question remained: would Trump secure the GOP nomination, and would he face off against Hillary, or perhaps Joe Biden would enter the race, making it even more unpredictable?
RUNIN is not exactly about the joys (or pain) of running. It’s not about running out of food either. Did you realize that RUNIN is actually a back acronym? Huh? Let’s take a look at the qualities of the Ethiopian Diaspora.
They were all Resourceful in surviving tough living conditions and eventually found success in their business ventures. They Understood the local environment well and identified the target market audience before starting their businesses in Ethiopia. They had to Negotiate with business owners, investors and the local governments who at first had little faith in them. They had to be Innovative to find the right business that would fill a void. And they all made bold decisions but remained open-minded and nimble when they Navigated toward their goals.
Resourcefulness:
Resourcefulness is about using the full resource of tools and other people to solve problems and reach goals. When the devastating EF-5 tornado ripped through downtown Joplin, Americans from near and far rushed to lend a helping hand. Thankfully, there was no shortage of compassion and generosity. The AmeriCorps displayed resourcefulness by allowing me to build an online database that tracked donations and matched them with survivors and their specific needs.
When our team didn’t place during Startup Weekend due to lacking a technical co-founder, I had to rely on resourcefulness to find a developer who was flexible enough to fulfill our requirements.
When we reached out to restaurants, many were willing to have us photograph their dishes, but didn’t want the food to go to waste. So we decided to photograph the food in conjunction with events and allow our guests to enjoy it. The events also served to promote the restaurants and we were able to capture amazing photography of attendees enjoying the ambiance and cuisine.
R also stands for Reflecting on what’s important in this journey and seeing how we can make improvements. Deb Santos taught me how to truly reflect — learning to invest in myself and showing self-compassion regardless of my mistakes.
R also stands for Researching. The secret sauce for RUNINOut was the behind-the-scenes research that we did for each restaurant to ensure that the user would get the best results possible.
Understanding:
The Irish Republican Army who sought a united Ireland clashed with the British forces resulting in massive death and destruction. When I visited Belfast, I met a tour guide named Arthur Magee who talked about building bridges. For peace to start and the troubles to end, both sides had to build bridges.
“If you come nigh you will see a city where on a micro level, people are building bridges. The most important bridge that is been built is in each and every single person here. That bridge is between who you actually are and how you see yourself. Whether you’re part of the problem, looking back and blaming other people, or whether you’re part of the solution and reaching out and seeing other human beings, as exactly that, human beings.”
From a business standpoint, one must fully understand the environment, the target market, and the competition in order to build a successful business. The diaspora community had done their research — that’s why they were able to build a leading PR firm, a luxury day spa chain, and a rose farm despite facing steep odds and many doubters that were skeptical that such business ideas could flourish in Ethiopia.
I applied these lessons when I worked with restaurants and bars. When I tried to sell our services to the Irish Channel, they were also receiving bids from other providers. In order to stand out from the competition, I studied the pub’s clientele and target market to determine which sports teams they could affiliate with and which social events we could host.
When the Lebanese Taverna requested to host a belly dancing event with Arabian folk music, I immediately did my research to familiarize myself with the art of belly dancing — I would then need to be resourceful to find the right talent and audience that would attract a strong turnout so we could host many more events and raise money for charity.
Over the years, we ended up working with several different groups and hosted a wide variety of events: running, comedy, political, food blogging — spanning a diverse group of bars and restaurants.
In the end, hosting tons of events took its toll, and I had to honestly look in the mirror and realize that the boozing had gone to extremes and I needed to start tapering off.
Negotiating:
Many restaurants were receptive to our services but did not have the resources or the inclination to pay for them. So we found a clever way to negotiate by having them host our events and provide free food and other amenities. We often got paid, but we were willing to barter web and social media assistance for food, eatups, and fundraisers.
Negotiating is something that I’ve always done my entire adult life. Throughout my entire Navy career, I never seemed to get what I wanted so I had to negotiate for just about everything of value. Successful negotiating requires understanding the other side’s priorities, open communication, and settling differences.
Innovating:
My search for a technical co-founder led me to take a Greyhound to Vancouver to find a web developer who could create our site in Drupal. And once the framework was built, I had to stay current in both Drupal and WordPress by regularly attending tech meetups.
Innovating meant building a menu prototype for Burma Restaurant and Vapiano’s so customers can decide on their orders while waiting in line.
When RUNINOut got rejected by the GW Business Plan Competition, I had to find ways to gain traction with users. It was imperative that we were able to expand our reach throughout the entire city with innovative methods. That meant deploying a used pedicab to market our brand and acquiring loyal followers who would vote for us for Best of D.C. We won the “Best Restaurant App” award in 2012 and 2013, and my alma mater agreed to let us present in the Business Plan Competition after all.
Navigating:
Some people struggle to make a decision. Some may be very simple like what to wear, others are very complex like finding a new job. Many times, we’ll end up regretting the decision that we make, but the worst decision is making no decision. No decision can be a decision, also, but the main thing is you need to take some action.
Navigating means making a decision to go one way and to stay on course despite experiencing choppy seas. It also means making course changes if the path is not the right one for you, even if it means making a drastic change.
I wouldn’t be where we are today if I never got into a scuffle with my GWU classmate causing me to transfer out of the Executive MBA program to the Professional MBA. With more freedom and flexibility, I was able to enroll in a New Ventures class where the idea of RUNINOut came to life.
After working tirelessly for over five years, It was clear that it was time to change course. Hosting events was time-consuming and tiring, and there was usually excessive drinking resulting in anxiety and depression.
It also became clear that we needed to branch out further from the DMV (D.C. – MD – VA).
How we would achieve that and what would the next step would be, was still undecided. But it was clear that it was time to take a radical, new direction.
Wherever we would be going, it would sure be a magical ride that the universe has specifically earmarked for us.
I was driving back from Front Royal, VA, the gateway to the Shenandoah National Park, when I got an unexpected call from a long-time restaurateur friend.
“Manuel, it’s great to hear from you. How’s the Iguina family?”
“Wife and kids are fine. We’re launching a new restaurant theme on H Street.”
“Really, Latin, Puerto Rican?”
“Neither one, I just got hired as the Director of Operations by Ben’s Chili Bowl.”
“Wow, chili and half-smokes – a local legacy. Congrats!”
“Yes, it’s a true iconic symbol, but we’ll be focusing on a totally different cuisine – Southern with a twist of Caribbean.”
“Sweet my friend, on U Street?”
“No, above the new location on 1001 H Street – we’ll be changing its name from Ten 01 to Ben’s Upstairs in “a few weeks.”
That makes a helluva lot of sense. The Ben’s name holds a massive amount of clout. What worked on U Street with Ben’s and Ben’s Next Door should work on H.”
“Yes, we’re thrilled beyond belief, and I would love for you to join our team.”
The following week, I met with Nizam Ali, owner and Vice Chair of the Ben’s Chili Bowl Foundation; Manuel and his Chef who hails from North Carolina, Quinton Mitchell. We formulated a plan to photograph their space and savory dishes, develop a website theme that captures their unique character and aggressively market the space to locals and tourists.
“H Street Fest is the biggest block party in D.C.,” Nizam asserted. “We want to launch Upstairs in conjunction with the Festival and hope that people from all over come in and sample our cuisine and experience our renowned, timeless brand.”
Similar to the iconic lunch counter on U Street with Ben’s Next Door, a historical American restaurant, Ben’s Upstairs featured a full service bar as well as a covered rooftop space offering stunning sunset views.
H Street was once a thriving economic corridor. But after the ’68 riots, the area was devastated. Similarly, U Street was ravaged to ruins after the riots. Businesses were damaged and smoldered, but Ben’s Chili Bowl stayed opened even through the many nights of curfew. Ben’s fed first responders and black activists, and served as a peaceful gathering place and safe haven for all.
Kay’s Jewelers and Morton’s Department Store burned down during April 1968 riots. Overall, more than 1,100 buildings in D.C. were damaged and the middle-class fled to the suburbs to seek safety and open space. People did not return for 20 years, and it wasn’t until the start of the 21st century that people began to invest in their community and redevelop the battered corridor.
That’s why Ben’s Chili Bowl is such a revered landmark. President Obama and national celebrities frequently dropped by to grab a bite, and for many world leaders, it’s a rite of passage after visiting the White House.
“Our slogan is Southern-influenced cuisine food with a hint of Caribbean flavors,” Nizam announced.
“Fried oysters Po-Boy with citrus aioli, fried green tomato BLT with ancho chile lime mayo, jerked salmon and lobster roll with arugula and roasted peppers, whole fried snapper served with coconut mojo are our featured dishes,” Quinton revealed. “And Manuel also assists since he’s from the enchanting island of PR.”
“Also love the stuffed yucca and green plantains as well as the mac ‘n’ cheese studded with crawfish,” Manuel shared.
“My father Ben was born in Trinidad and my mother Virginia is from Southern Virginia. We want our new menu to reflect the Ben’s family roots,” Nizam remarked.
“And the drinks are very much Latin/Caribbean featuring Bacardi mint Mojitos, Mezcal Margaritas, and Stoli Raspberry Sangrias,” Manuel informed. “Very comparable to my Little San Juan.”
“Thanks for all this timely information. I need to ask for a favor. “I have a friend who just arrived from Jamaica. Can you get her a job?”
“If she has a green card, she’ll fit right in,” Manuel replied. “And BTW, will you be inviting food bloggers like you did at Mio?”
“Super idea — food bloggers and social media influencers.”
Who me also a food model? Well when my good friend Chito invites me to join him as he samples a new restaurant’s menu, what else can I say but YES! At the two weeks old new #benschillibowl on H St. As I sample the variety of dishes, all I can think is that this restaurant has transcended it’s legendary staple of #chillihotdogs and fries! Very satisfied with the experience.
On Saturday, Sept 17, during the H Street Festival, Ben’s Chili Bowl welcomed eaters and spectators to the 4th Annual Half Smoke Eating Contest.
Tens of thousands streamed along the 11-block corridor looking to taste wholesome food and experience diverse culture and fun.
Half Smoke Eating Contest
What is unique about the D.C. half smoke? Is it because it’s half pork and half beef? Or is it Ben’s original spice mix that is a well-kept family secret. Or maybe because it’s grilled on both sides on a hot griddle until perfectly charred. Whatever the reason, the sausage placed on a lightly steamed bun, dowsed with yellow mustard, sprinkled with chopped white onions and smothered with the famous, generation-old chili sauce has become D.C.’s signature dish.
As usual, Virginia Ali, the Matriarch of the D.C. restaurant world, was busy running the restaurant, cooking half smokes and cleaning tables.
Eight lucky participants got to enjoy the sweet, smoky half smokes, grilled to perfection, to see who could consume them the fastest.
Mary Jones set a local record by devouring eight half-smokes in eight minutes — a feat that could put Joey Chestnut to shame.
Vida Ali congratulates Mary Jones for winning the Half Smoke Eating Contest.
Ben’s stage also showcased some of D.C.’s hottest local artists such as Rare Essence, Ozone, Renee and Wooty 95
After the contest and concert, fans filed into Ben’s to grab a chili dog with chili cheese fries or Upstairs to grab a Southern Caribbean sandwich paired with a Mojito.
A beautiful, full-figured woman with long, black hair and a thick, rich accent served me a Caribe cupcake with a Red Stripe.
[ Image: Kiomey Ben’s Upstairs.png ]
Kamara @ Ben’s Upstairs
“Thank you kindly Kimara. What a great time for you to start working here.”
“I’ll swing by shortly to see if you want another one.”
“Thanks, but one beer is all I’m gonna have today.”
“What are you on a diet?”
“I’m trying to taper off, and attending these events and festivals ain’t making it any easier.”
The festival was amazing and the launch was a smashing success. Now it was time to stroll down the avenue to watch other local talents and dancers perform. Cheers to H Street! This community has become a veritable playground for foodies and art and music aficionados alike.
I wanted to remain in this vibrant city and enjoy all the perks she had to offer — her culture, the restaurant scenes, the melting pot — but part of me told me it was time to move on..to head west towards the mountains and valleys, where I would find respite and healing.
Down the road from Ben‘s Chili Bowl on 12th and U, tall cranes dot the skyline along the 14th St corridor. The young, vibrant masses are moving in, and shopping and dining out have become more fashionable.
After months of construction, the massive Louis at 14th was finally taking shape. As 270 apartments were getting built, D.C. small businesses were once again the victims of rapid gentrification.
Such as Carlos Amaya’s Coppi’s Organic which was renowned for its rich, authentic cuisine inspired by the seaside Ligurian Riviera in Northern Italy. The landmark eatery was forced to shut down for over a year due to the heavy construction. After completion, the street scene would surely look better and brighter, but Carlos couldn’t wait. It was time to move Coppi’s, the brick oven with the tricolors of the Italian flag, and all the Fausto Coppi’s biking decor back to the block where it all started 20 plus years ago.
“We’re in Cleveland Park now,” Carlos announced. “We’re not too far from the rest of civilization.”
“I’ll definitely ride my pedicab there the next time I visit the zoo or the Lebanese Taverna for belly dancing.”
The lions roared and the crickets chirped when I passed by the National Zoological Park on the way to Cleveland Park. I parked by Medium Rare, the local-favorite steakhouse known for its steak frites prix fixe menu, then ambled over to Coppi’s. When I entered, I noticed that the front windows could be opened to let in sunlight and there were several rows of church pew benches for booth seating. And just like the previous, iconic location on U, hundreds of vintage pictures hung on the wall, unapologetically old-school with a nice touch of evocation.
“Fausto Coppi was a great all-round racing cyclist,” Carlos said. “You don’t have to be a biker to appreciate his achievements.”
“He was a true legend. He won the Giro d’Italia and the Tour de France in the same year. He is truly missed,” I added.
The next month, on December 4, 2014, the D.C. Food Bloggers flocked to Coppi’s to enjoy authentic wood-fired pizza, and fine wine and to catch up with old friends and make new ones.
The wine list was very impressive and if anyone had any questions, their trusty manager Tom Bindley could make a recommendation.
Anita Hattiangadi from Greg’s List and several food bloggers such as Jennifer Matta, Jason Shriner and Wendy Brannen were in attendance. You can always rely on these reputable influencers to visit their favorite restaurants and then feature the cuisine and ambience in their lifestyle blogs and social media campaigns.
Restaurateurs loved to welcome them because their patronage implied their stamp of approval, even if they did more drinking than blogging.
The Peroni was light and bubbly, and the wine list was something to write home about. If anyone had any questions, their manager Tom Bindley could steer you in the right direction.
Coppi’s Organic has two ways of cooking their food: The pastas are boiled, but everything else is cooked in the wood-burning brick oven.
To create the masterpiece, the pizza chef spinned the dough then tossed it in the air to ensure it stayed consistent and flat. A wide array of ingredients — fresh and organic — were sprinkled on the pre-baked dough then returned to the Forno Bravo to give it the authentic wood-fired oven taste.
There were more than a dozen inventive pizzas to choose from and choosing my favorite was a tough decision.
The Prosciutto e Funghi (prosciutto and mushroom), Pancetta (Italian bacon, mushroom, onion, mozzarella), were two that I still daydream about.
“The smoked salmon charcuterie board is quite impressive. Artfully arranged and delicious,” said Jennifer.
Wendy is quite adept in the kitchen. She makes a killer pepperoni pie with sweet Vidalia Onions from Georgia and Jason Shriner’s homegrown oregano.
“The food is always fantastic. Love the shrimp and mozzarella in the Genovese,” Wendy said. “Simply delectable. I would travel from Georgia and back just for this pasta.”
“Thanks, we work with organic farmers and food cooperatives throughout the region to bring the freshest ingredients to your table,” Carlos said.
“Great, I’d be happy to source you some of my oregano,” Jason Shriner added.
“I’m still celebrating National Pizza Month. I’m so addicted to crack pizza, I need to go to Rehab,” Wayne Manigo added.
“Yeah, and take Orlando with you,” I added. “He’s eaten his fair share.”
“Well this isn’t New Haven style pizza from Pete’s,” Orlando replied. “The pies are baked authentic Italian with a perfect crust and nonna’s fresh tomato sauce. I need to take a box or two home.”
“Good idea. You ought to start delivering pizza for Postmates,” Jason turned to me and suggested. “You can easily make one grand a week.”
“The secret is to deliver fast while still hot, and my pedicab is as slow as a sloth,” I responded.
“Yes, we only want our customers to enjoy their pizzas while it’s still piping hot,” Carlos stated. “That’s why we prefer to serve them here.”
“Then I’ll just pick them up and let them hop in the back. It can be a romantic night out and they can even pop a bottle of wine and smooch while passers-by stare.”
[ Image: Coppi’s GANG.png ]
Me, Wayne, Wendy, Orlando and many others
This was followed by a burst of laughter. Everyone knew each other and were having an amazing time.
The dessert was well presented and absolutely irresistible, and would even make nonna proud.
“Please come back on Sept 9th,” Carlos said. “Every year on my sister’s birthday, we celebrate her life. And on Halloween nights, we host a salsa vigil. Nori was an amazing person with a great heart and a wonderful soul.”
* * *
On Halloween night 2009, Nori Amaya worked the early shift at Coppi’s on U Street before slipping out for the evening for salsa dancing.
She visited the Rumba Cafe in Adams Morgan where she had been dating the owner, before heading to the Russia House and then to Bravo Bravo where she met up with her Salsa dance partner. She took a cab home to her apartment and by Monday afternoon, Carlos knew something was wrong. When he got security to open the door to her apartment, he found Nori’s body, wrapped up in a comforter, dressed in her underwear. When investigators arrived to examine the body, they found something chilling — all of her fingernails had been removed, in an attempt to remove traces of any DNA.
“Absolutely, we will find Nori’s killer and bring him to justice.”
“I will never rest until we do. We owned and managed the restaurant together. She will always be a huge part of Coppi’s and precious lives. She had many loving friends who want to know what happened that night.”
The next day, I hopped on a train to Northern Ireland to see Mark and Lee, my folklife fest friends who I had not seen since 2007. They took the entire day off from work to give me a grand tour of the Antrim Coast showcasing the scenic, untouched Northern Ireland coastline — one of the most beautiful in the world, and the Giant’s Causeway, a World Heritage Site, declared by the Irish as the 8th Wonder of the World.
Enjoying a meal with Mark and Lee in Northern Ireland
Mark and I created an impromptu limerick which we posted on Youtube.
Here we are in Giant’s Causeway
Where 40,000 columns of basalt rock stand today
The volcano erupted
The larva cooled
But before there was science
There was the Legend of Finn McCool
It is called the Giant’s Causeway
It was made by Finn McCool
It’s really just the start of a stepping stone tool
To get across to Scotland
To fight with Bennadonner
Through many disagreements
They pulled each other asunder
He took the cloth much
And try and try as he may
He never hit his target
But he made us our Loch Neagh
The mud landed in the water
And with all the might he can
He only then succeeded
In making the Isle of Man
So he took to playing the organ
And over here were his pipes
He played the Sash, Derry’s Walls, and Billyboys
But started loads of fights
Cuz’ the Scottish Giant thought they were his tunes
But little did he know
That the music for Highland bagpipes
Came from across there near Dunloe
We then visited Balintoy Harbour on the Antrim Coast, 13 kms away.
“Haven’t been back in 28 years. When I was nine years old, my family would come here for the summer holidays, and I would dive off these rocks, swim across this pool of water, climb up the natural stairway and dive again. Would do this all day long,” Mark reflected.
“When you return to the Capital City, please let all your friends and runners know how beautiful the Emerald Isle truly is,” Mark said. Then I gave him and Lee a big hug and wondered where in the world we would meet again.
I got to do a lot of quality sightseeing and made new friends who taught me a lot about the precious value of life and respecting other people. I learned about the sectarian conflict and how it is important to learn and understand each other.
Belfast is known for its troubles and religious conflict. For over 25 years, the IRA (Irish Republican Army) clashed with the Irish National Liberation Army. The Republicans carried out a guerrilla campaign against the British forces as well as bombing infrastructure and killing innocent civilians.
On Bloody Friday 1972, the IRA set off 22 bombs killing 9 people and injuring 120. When the bombs dropped, people did not know what to do. There were no bomb shelters. They did not know whether to run, hide or stay sheltered at home. The IRA hoped they would be just as successful in catching the government and the people unprepared in hopes of getting Northern Ireland out of the UK.
Truly, there was only one main pursuit: The Irish Republicans wanted a united Ireland. More than 3,500 people were killed of whom over half were civilians.
However, there was never such a state as a united Ireland. As an outsider looking in, I didn’t truly understand what the big deal was, other than the name and the unity. Just ten years ago the border was filled with concrete barriers, barbed wires and bombs. Today Northern Ireland and Ireland enjoy an open border where citizens could cross either side freely without having to produce a passport.
“I’m glad you took some time to research our history,” Mark said. “It was very important for the parties to understand our differences so that the IRA and the British government could properly negotiate.”
The last place I visited was the First Presbyterian Church where I met tour guide Arthur Magee.
Arthur Magee
“Belfast has been a by-word for the troubles, sectarian strife, and intolerance. If you come nigh you will see a city where on a micro level, people are building bridges. The most important bridge that is been built is in each and every single person here. That bridge is between who you actually are and how you see yourself. Whether you’re part of the problem, looking back and blaming other people, or whether you’re part of the solution and reaching out and seeing other human beings, as exactly that, human beings. We’re no different from any other place in this planet. We’re products of circumstances and history. And the same problems that exist in Belfast apply everywhere. Belfast isn’t a byword for intolerance, it’s a beacon for hope. It’s a place where people are reaching out and it shows the possibility of change. And it also shows the importance of each and single person to reach out, to build bridges and to see other people as exactly that, other people.”
This whole trip was more eye-opening than attending class at GWU, and definitely a lot more fun. No encyclopedia, no ebook reader, no youtube video could teach me life’s social skills better than what I learned in Barcelona, Normandy, or Belfast.
I only had one final day in London when I returned from Belfast. In life, nothing rarely happens the way you intended it to. It’s important to be flexible, fluid and understanding. Sometimes life brings you pleasant surprises — it’s not scripted or orchestrated, but just right. Life can be charming, like that, if you let it. In the long run, we will appreciate the fact that we were flexible and cherish the tender times that we were able to spend together.
The dinner with Kim and my nieces was wholesome and filling. I did not know it was even possible to make spaghetti so delicious. The meal, in fact, was just as good as Rio’s Japanese Tonkatsu curry she cooked for us the night I left for Northern Ireland. This is also the very first time I’ve spent time with Kim, Kae, Rio, and Rintaro all at the same time, under one roof. So it’s a very special moment to be thankful and cherish especially when we let life’s circumstances take the lead.
We had a wonderful time, talking, laughing, and just enjoying a simple and pleasant meal with friends and loved ones. Nothing special, though it meant the entire world to me.
After dinner, we all went to Notting Hill to visit Rio as she was painting her clothing store. Notting Hill is a fabulous, affluent, fashionable community with beautiful Victorian homes and attractive storefronts. It is a very artsy place that reminds me of Chelsea, NYC, and Georgetown, D.C.
The last 12 months have been momentous for Kim since this is the first time that she has seen Mom, my older sister, Pearl, and me, within the same calendar year, since we immigrated to the US in ’79 (Mom in Japan at my grandmother’s funeral, Pearl in Hong Kong and now home in London). This was no coincidence, and it was a precious moment to forever embrace.
Luck was recurrent through the course of the trip since the idea was born during a routine run on the Mall. I boarded a Space-A flight from Joint Base Andrews at the very last minute and every moment after that was entirely spontaneous.
It was serendipitous that I met Marcy and fortuitous to reunite with my folklife friends Mark and Lee. And I wanted nothing more than to re-create this experience for Americans back home. And on the MAC (Military Airlift Command) flight from Ramstein AFB back to Andrews, I had plenty of time to contemplate and plan my next big project. I was looking forward to coming home and reuniting with my pet parrot, Apollo and my pit bull, Georgia. Both were in good hands with my housemate, Kanita Williams. I knew that fate would lead her to become a lot more than just a typical roommate.
The tall white fir draped with multi-colored lights shined bright and festive in front of the U.S. Capitol. A mile and a half to the west, the nation’s most iconic monument was bathed in a spotlight embodying the history and culture of the nation’s capital.
On December 18, 2010, I was on my routine run on the National Mall when I suddenly realized how much better it would be to run in a foreign country. It was on a two-week winter break from George Washington University (GWU), and I was in desperate need of respite from working exhaustively on a startup business plan.
So I stopped in my tracks, pulled out my phone from my fanny pack, and called Andrews Air Force Base passenger terminal. A C-17 was departing that night for Germany with a roll call of 2210. I rushed home and started stuffing winter clothes into my threadbare backpack. Normally I would need a couple of days to pack for these trips. But today, I only had a couple of hours.
Service members, retirees, and their families were traveling “Space-A” — short for space available — on an Air Mobility Command flight to Germany. If a seat on the 54-seat Globemaster jet was available they could travel without charge.
The C-17 with the 445th Airlift Wing normally ferries troops and cargo around the world. On its way to Afghanistan, plenty of people were headed to Europe for the Christmas holidays.
There were no more seats available. As a military retiree, I was bumped to the bottom of the barrel. A family of four had to rush home to grab some gifts they forgot to bring. If they didn’t come back in time, I would be assigned one of their seats.
Needless to say, by midnight I sat shivering away on a metal seat, the only cost for the flight was $10 for a box lunch, its baloney sandwich and carrot sticks as hard as ice. Many families with children were bundled up in blankets and lying on sleeping bags. The jet was so loud passengers had to wear earplugs and thankfully my dose of trazodone reposed me to psychedelic-like sleep. When I woke up, eight hours later, we were arriving at Ramstein Air Force Base. The sun was just rising over the Luxembourg horizon. It was Christmas Day, and there were plenty of rooms available at the Ramstein Inn.
I’ve been to Germany many times over my career. My last duty station in the Navy was at the U.S. European Command in Stuttgart. I would love to enjoy schnitzels and Pils for Christmas, but the main intent on this trip was to run in warmer pastures.
So I found a flight to someplace more sultry and exotic for only 150 Euros. It was an Air France flight from Frankfurt to Paris. I was fortunate to have an overnight, 9-hour layover in Paris — the only catch — it was in Orly, an airport an hour and a half from Charles de Gaule.
What a weird concept. It was like having an overnight layover in Reagan. Then hopping on a taxi to Dulles 30 miles away to board the next flight.
During the holidays, Orly Airport was as dead as a wing joint in Paris. The terminal was closed but luckily several of us managed to find a spot to catch some ZZZs, away from the custodians and security guards.
The next morning, I hopped on a taxi to CDG and then caught a puddle jumper to Barcelona. I was excited but also dead tired — flying on military Space-A and sleeping on the floor in Paris airports started to take their toll.
I checked into Party Hostel Kabul, a 4-min walk from the Liceu subway station. I was happy to discover that the lodge was smack dab in the middle of Plaza Real in the center of the old city, not far from the Picasso Museum. With such a festive name like, I couldn’t resist.
I was too exhausted to wait to see if a double bedroom would come available. So I took the mixed-gender dorm and immediately hit the sack. When I woke up at 6 pm, I showered, checked my email, and moseyed down the steps to see what was cooking in bustling Las Ramblas.
On the way down, I met some friendly backpackers: Brazilians, Canadians, and two cute American sisters: Meagan and Marcy Miller from NYC.
“Where are y’all going?” I asked in the most distinct Southern twang I could muster.
“Marsella, the oldest bar in Barcelona,” said Meagan.
“Yeah, Picasso and Gaudi went there. It remains exactly how it was in 1820,” Marcy added.
We roamed the charming Gothic Quarter with narrow medieval streets filled with trendy bars and Catalan restaurants. The district was a former Roman village, ancient architecture sat next to buildings constructed at the turn of the century. Artisans sold leather and jewelry near the 15th-century Barcelona Cathedral with a stunning courtyard full of playful geese. And working girls roamed the winding streets looking for lovers and dollars.
“10 Euros,” one advertised.
Another whistled and winked her eye. I felt a ripple of humiliation and sorrow.
Shopping is amazing in Barcelona from all the large commercial stores at Calle Portal de L’Angel to the pint-sized boutiques on Calle Avinyo. What should have been an easy 5-min stroll morphed into a 45 min sight-seeing excursion packed with cultural attractions and diversions.
As soon as we walked into Bar Marsella, we were brought back in time to the old Barcelona that still thrives but is slowly disappearing. The walls were stained chocolate brown from years and years of cigarette smoke. The whiskey bottles that lined the walls must have been a century old and covered in dust. Paint falling from the ceiling in big chunks. Thick clumps of cobwebs lined the ceilings and antique chandelier, creating an ambiance of character and age.
Our bartender, Sebastián, greeted us amicably. “Hemingway was a regular patron here,” he boasted. “We’re super famous for our absinthe.”
“Really, the liquor is banned in the US,” Meagan murmured. “It’s s’posed to cause hallucinations.”
“Hey absinthe is a spirit, not a liquor.,” our bartender exclaimed. “And we serve 100 proof here.”
“Well, we made it this far. There’s a reason why Picasso was such a great abstract artist,” Marcy said jokingly. I’ll buy the first round of shots.”
“You don’t drink the absinthe straight. It’s too potent and disgusting,” Sebastián said flashing a crude smile.
“Then how do we drink it? As a cocktail or a mixed drink?” I asked.
“You can order it in a cocktail, or with a mojito or you can drink it the ole’ traditional French way,” Sebastián responded.
Sebastián served us the Marsella which is one part absinthe and 5 parts of iced water poured over a sugar cube on a fork until it dissolves.
“Swallow this slowly,” Sebastián suggested. “Or else it could scald your throat.”
Its wormwood, anise flavor was distinctly acrid and powerful. Thankfully the sugar quelled the bitterness and the water diluted the liquor making it more satiable. It was a great Mediterranean ritual, and it was the start of an amazing European vacation.
“Ok, the next round, I wanna light it on fire.”
“You can get lit tonight Marcy as long as you live to tomorrow to tell the tale,” Mirian quipped.
“And I’ll be sure to wake you up early so we can catch the beautiful Barcelona sunrise,” I added, raising my eyebrows for emphasis.
The next morning, Marcy and I caught a glimpse of the first rays peeking over the Mediterranean Sea at Port Olímpic. Built in 1991, the marina hosted water sports and sailing for the ’92 Summer Olympics.
We ran on the spacious stretch of sand alongside sculptures of sea life to the Barceloneta fishing village. Then we ran past the ferry station and the largest Marine Aquarium in Europe.
“We went there yesterday,” Marcy said, pointing to it’s unique, cylindrical shape. “It’s a Mediterranean-themed aquarium, and they have a large tunnel which gives you the feeling that you are swimming with the sharks.”
“I would love to pay a visit, but I’m running out of time here. Where else did you guys go?”
“We visited Camp Nou. Meagan and I are both Barcelona FC fanatics.”
“Is that right? I’m a big fan of Lionel Messi, too. He’s the greatest of all time.”
As we ran past the World Trade Center, we saw Christopher Columbus pointing to the distant west over an ornate Corinthian column.
“The hostel staff told me that this is the top tourist spot in town,” Marcy stated
We stopped to admire the statue and then approached to read the plaque.
Monumento a Colón— constructed for the Exposición Universal de Barcelona in 1888. Location of the site where Columbus returned to Spain after his first voyage to the Americas. The monument serves as a reminder that Barcelona is where Christopher Columbus reported to Queen Isabella and Ferdinand after Columbus’ most famous trip.
“Columbus is such a hero in this country.”
“But he’s not adored back home,” Marcy rebutted. “Many consider him a villain who embraced slavery, colonialism, brutality, and theft of indigenous land.”
After discussing the significance of the memorial and watching people starting to accumulate, we ran back along the tree-lined promenade on La Rambla.
“So now that you’re retired from the Navy and getting your MBA, will you be working a government job?”
“I dunno, but I really hope not. I want to do something entrepreneurial, something that will help people and continue traveling not just overseas, but in the US.”
“How old are you?”
“43, and you?”
“24, I thought you were a lot younger.”
“Age is how you perceive it.”
As we returned to the hostel, backpackers were just rising for Desayuno enjoying sweet rolls with jam and cafe con Leche.
Meagan came down, stretched her arms, and yawned. Then gave her sis a heartfelt hug.
“Glad you’re alive after last night.”
“We’re very much alive. We ran three miles and saw many Barcelonians jogging,” Marcy uttered. “The city is most spectacular at the crack of dawn.”
“So I’m sorry to see you go tomorrow,” Marcy said with a twinge of sadness. “Where’s your next adventure?”
“Normandy, France, then off to London to see my folks. You guys should join me.”
“Well, it’s not like we have much going on. What do you think Meagan?”
“Thanks for the invitation, but we really have so much more to see and do in Barcelona.”
“Like what?” Marcy asked with a twinge of displeasure.
“Well for one we have to do the obligatory girly thing and lots more shopping on La Rambla. And two, we still have lots of museums to see such as the Picasso Art Museum.
“Those things are important, but recognizing the sacrifices of the greatest generation is priceless,” Marcy replied.
* * *
As we looked over Omaha Beach, we paid homage to the D-Day troops in Normandy. The troops faced a daunting challenge. The invasion was beset with ineffective airstrikes and poor naval bombardments. This set up the Allied troops against an almost unscathed German front, armed with formidable machine gunfire. The only chance of cover was to run towards the enemy.
Sixty-five years later, the hilly seaside bore few scars from the dark and gray day of June 6, 1944. But on that longest day, things had turned to hell in a hurry.
I could not imagine these young soldiers jumping out of their LCAs (Landing Craft Assault), crossing the slippery beach, and climbing the cliff face via ropes and grappling hooks in the face of nasty fire.
It was extremely unnerving. The soldiers could hear the heavy thump of shells bombarding the exterior of the coffin-like LCAs as they were approaching the shore. They knew death was knocking, but they kept approaching. They kept their mind affixed on the Star-Spangled Banner and Her Majesty the Queen.
Some shells hit dead-on, the LCAs exploding into tiny pieces like a box of eggs dropped from the Eiffel Tower. Many soldiers perished from gunshot, blast, or drowning before even hitting the shore. They would never set foot on the foreign beach they aspired to reach, the sea crimson red, their faces, white with shock and trepidation.
It was a travesty to see so many young, unbounded lives forever lost on the blood-soaked beaches. At the American Cemetery, we could see thousands of white crosses and the Stars of David facing patriotically towards their homeland, saluting with only their solemn smiles. This is the final resting place for 9,400 Americans along with a monument to 1,500 more listed as missing in action. How sad that we never found their bodies — brave Americans who never got to come home, their bodies washed away in the English Channel.
Marcy placed her hand softly on my shoulder. “Have you lost close friends in the current conflict?”
“Yes, one to each war – a buddy who I went to school with and a coworker at the Naval Hospital in Bethesda.”
“I’m very sorry. D-Day was necessary to allow the Allies to complete the liberation of Western Europe. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, however, are unjust and a tragic verdict of 9/11.”
Marcy and I continued on our run along Av. Moulin flanked by hedgerows and surrounded by geography very similar to what our soldiers faced 67 years ago.
A couple of kms later, we were back to Omaha. The beaches still bore witness to the immense human sacrifices. Numerous German battery sites were maintained in excellent condition (since countless, young Germans had surrendered without putting up a fight). As a result, we were offered a rare glimpse into a living, life-less museum that clearly depicts the power and plight of the mighty German defensive. Luckily, many of the troops from Eastern Europe and Asia would surrender at the first opportunity. Many of them were comprised of an international army made up of troops from throughout the Soviet empire and even China and Korea. Can you imagine the looks in the eyes of our GIs when they first faced their enemies?
But still, many Germans fought viciously and effectively. The Germans had four huge casements with a 205 mm cannon. These guns were effective in dueling with American battleships. For eight days, the German soldiers stayed inside the casements with virtually nothing to eat and drink but stale bread and bad water. They had no place to use the bathroom — yet they stayed. Many did not surrender until they ran out of ammunition.
“If you were a young soldier during Normandy, would you risk your life for your country?”
I thought long and hard. “The simple answer was yes, but would I be brave enough to carry out my duties the same way these men did on these beaches. That is an enduring question that bears no easy answers.”
“Why don’t you plan a run back home,” Marcy suggested. “Kind of like the run we did in Barcelona, to see all the amazing sights and to ponder on the significance of these historic landmarks?”
“That’s a wonderful idea. It’s a great way to understand different cultures and to navigate through the sights and sounds of the old continent.”
The English Channel was rough and choppy the next day when I caught the Normandie Express to Portsmouth, England — a high-speed catamaran cruise ferry. I would have given time to reflect on my tour and also work on my website. Marcy and Meagan would catch the Eurail to Paris, and I thanked them for giving me incredible ideas to ponder.
In London, I visited my sister, Kim, my nieces Kae and Rio, and nephew Rintaro at their Chiswick flat. It was a special, last-minute, family reunion – my first time seeing everyone all together.
I gave Kim a tight embrace. “I’m very sorry for the loss of Grandma.”
“Thank you. She will always have a special place in my heart.”
