Guess When They're Open

  So, there we were in this hot, un-air-conditioned that was supposed to be air-conditioned  house in Baltimore and we were heading off to see the Jays play in Washington Friday night, remember? Well, we had a few hours to kill before game time so, like most places we visit, a browse through Atlas Obscura was called for. Like most people do when they have a few hours to blow we headed to the cemetery. Our first stop, Edgar Allan Poe:

There is a place in Philadelphia where you can see the stuffed raven that inspired his most famous poem. We didn't. BTW, a trivia tidbit... not his raven. It belonged to Charles Dickens.

  After Poe we headed off to Green Mount Cemetery for some real oddities. Our first dead guy was our roadside friend from Virginia, John Wilkes Booth. He's in his family plot but his stone is blank. The authorities at the time didn't publicize the location of his burial for fear the citizenry would deface or destroy the headstone:

We know it's his, though, from the neighboring monument (expand it to read the inscription):

With Booth out of the way we went in search of some other notables. Our first stop was this guy:

  Allen Dulles, for those of you who aren't up on twentieth century American history, is a significant figure. His brother, John Foster Dulles, was Eisenhower's Secretary of State and a staunch anti-Communist. Allen had been the head of the CIA from it's post-war inception. Throughout the 1950's the brothers helped escalate the Cold War with John influencing the US foreign policy and Allen's CIA running spy operations.

  Allen was sailing along until 1961, when he was fired by JFK over the Bay of Pigs fiasco. Kennedy also threatened to destroy the CIA. If you're curious about the history you can click here. Dulles hated Kennedy for not supporting his Cuban adventure. There are many theories that present convincing evidence the CIA was involved with Kennedy's assassination in 1963 and that Dulles was one of the people behind it. Those same theories posit the Warren Commission was just a coverup so it's not surprising that Dulles was appointed as a member. Yeah, the guy that had a hate on for Kennedy and got fired by him was on the committee investigating his murder. Coincidence? I think not.

  Meanwhile, our next stop was the founder of one of the world's foremost hospitals, in Baltimore:

And, finally, this guy:

Yes, inventor of the Ouija Board, which is on the back of his headstone:

  Some pretty weird and cool stuff there. Anyway, after that trek it was time for us to head to Washington for the ball game. It was a nice stadium and the Nationals aren't such a good team these days so it looked like the Jays had a good shot at winning.

  Unfortunately things didn't go our way. First, the weather changed and a cold wind started blowing right after we arrived. We were sitting in a very open part of the stadium so we froze. Good time to get something to eat so we wandered around until settling on Shake Shack, an expanding American fast food chain that serves reasonable food. Two burgers, fries and a bottle of water and we were out of pocket $50. American dollars. To add insult to that injury the Jays collapsed in the seventh inning in a very ugly fashion so we took our frozen bodies and lighter wallet and left. The 3-0 lead they had before we left ended up a 9-3 deficit. We didn't miss anything.

  The weekend promised a return trip to DC to see some stuff we'd missed on earlier trips, specifically, the Library of Congress and the Bureau of Engraving (where they print money). Saturday dawned cold and rainy so we just hung out at the now, cooling off house, and left DC for Sunday. Of course, on Sunday I found out the two places we'd planned on visiting are closed Sunday. In case you've not been keeping up, "closed" has been a recurring theme on this trip.

  We ended up seeing a movie Sunday afternoon and tried to have dinner but, wait for it, a lot of restaurants were closed. We also thought a donut and coffee would be nice after the movie but, again, closed.

  Monday morning it was time to hit the road once again. This time we were bound for Philadelphia, City of Brotherly Love. Ostensibly, we were going because the Jays were playing and it was yet another ballpark I hadn't been to, so off we went. Along the way we passed through Rising Sun and, incredibly, no one had thought to open a bar called The House. Seemed like a natural to me. This was as close to a house as we could find:

  We had booked a place on the New Jersey side of the Delaware River for the night so we did our George Washington imitation and crossed it. Of course, with an afternoon to kill we fell back on the ol' Atlas once again. Our first oddity was "Rusty":

Yes, that's a real house. We followed shortly after with "Mighty Joe":

I mean, what's odd about a fifteen foot tall gorilla by the roadside? This is why I love the States.

  Now, we were going to Philadelphia and what is Philadelphia known for? Cheesesteaks, of course. I did my usual exhaustive research and found one of the best ones in the entire area was five minutes from our hotel. Perfect. Closed Monday. Sigh.

  Tuesday afternoon was for touring Philadelphia before the game so we headed to one of the most famous backdrops in movie history, the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I can hear a collective "Huh?" Yes. In the first Rocky movie he runs up the entire flight of stairs in front of the museum as he completes his five mile training run.

  They put a statue of him in on the sidewalk and keep him clean and shiny.

In fact, you see images of Rocky all over downtown. I'm sure that movie has accounted for millions of dollars of tourist revenue over the past fifty years. They even have his footprints at the top of the stairs:

  Well, I love a challenge so I wasn't going to be intimidated by seventy-two stairs. Before Penny had a chance to record the whole thing for posterity (and this blog), I was at the top celebrating my movie-echoing accomplishment... sitting down.

I mean, it was hot. And I'm not a kid anymore. And I didn't want to upstage all the other middle-aged (or older) guys who were doing the same thing. Did I mention it was hot?

  Down the street was a copy of Rodin's Thinker:

We found out that the one we saw at the Rodin Museum in Paris isn't the original. That one sits at his graveside in rural France. Apparently he churned out a whole raft of copies, kinda like the Washington Monument thing we kept seeing. These artistic guys sure know how to milk a good thing. Speaking of artists, here's a shameless plug:

  We kept seeing "No Outlet" street signs. Nowhere did we see a "No Plug" sign.

  After all that jocularity it was time to spend $24 on parking and see the Liberty Bell.

The crack has been there since 1846. I offered to fix it. I mean, I can do wonders with drywall compound. They thanked me and the nice man with a gun asked me to leave. I think they're still sore over that whole UK radar installation thing in Cyprus.

  The final stop on our tour was the US Mint, where they make coins. We figured we'd stop by, take the tour and see if they were giving out free samples. No such luck. We did see another grave on the way. This time it was Benjamin Franklin, a pretty accomplished guy:

The thing that jumped out at me was the Franklin Stove. I think they still make those things, three hundred years later.

  Finally it was time to get to the ballpark. Citizens Bank Park is pretty cool. The sightlines are great, there's a varied selection of food and the fans are passionate. It is, however, very expensive to see a game there but that's what we came for so we sucked it up and took our seats preparing to cheer our heroes.

  Unfortunately for us, the Jays played like something the cat threw up and they were down 8-0 before the fourth inning was done. Now, those passionate fans I mentioned? Being the only guy within a hundred meters wearing a Blue Jays hat while the home team was beating them senseless made me a great target as we climbed the stairs on our way out. I'll come back here one day... maybe without the Jays hat.

  And that was that. Our trip ended with a longish drive home where we're house sitting for our son and daughter-in-law while they attend a wedding in Norway. We're here for the next two weeks and then off to Nova Scotia for our next assignment in mid-June. Until then, I'm taking a break from the blogging thing so look for me when we ship out next month.

Until then, be good. If you can't be good, play the piano.

Cheers.

Some More History And Pop Culture

   This installment is going to be a long one as we covered a lot of ground in the past few days. As we saw on a license plate holder, "Buckle Up, I Wanna Try Something". BTW, I'm ordering that from Amazon to put on our car. Cracked us both up when we saw it. During our last couple of days in Virginia, when we weren't cleaning and doing laundry, we went for a drive to see the last remaining items of curiosity I could find.

  Our first stop was George Washington's Birthplace. The first thing you're confronted with is a miniature Washington Monument. Like the one in Washington. Like the one at Jamestown(e). This one was built in the early 1930's, some twenty-five years after the Jamestown(e) one. You know where I'm going with this, if you read the Jamestown(e) episode. "Hey Bob, we need to build a monument here. I know a guy who has the plans for the big one in DC. I think he shrunk it at Jamestown(e). maybe we can get a deal." Like that. This one's even smaller than Jamestown(e) so I think the plans might have been in his pocket and he put his pants in the dryer. Who knows?

  Also, there's no engraving on the monument. Anywhere. It's like one of those signet rings you buy from a jeweller and they engrave initials on it. It's like all they had was enough money for the monument and couldn't afford engraving. Cheapskates.

  Meanwhile, this place is not where he cut down the mythical cherry tree and proclaimed, "I cannot tell a lie". He was only three years old when the family homestead burned to the ground and they moved to Mount Vernon. Pretty sure he wasn't swinging an axe at that age. On the other hand an archaeological dig at the homestead site turned up a two hundred and fifty year-old jar of preserved cherries. I'll leave it at that.

  Now, before I go further I need to tell you this is a National Monument operated by the National Parks Service. They operate a very informative Visitor Center. It's closed Monday. And Tuesday. This has been a recurring theme since Greece, this things being closed on Monday. All we could do was wander the grounds in search of the few interesting bits that were located here. Because, as I said, the house burned to the ground in 1735, the "birthplace" isn't actually anywhere to be found. We did find the family graveyard which contains his ancestors prior to the conflagration.

Otherwise, not much there so we moved on. The trip back home did yield one significant spot:

  The actual spot where the villain was killed lay underneath US Route 301, thus the roadside marker.  At this point I should remind you we spend a lot of time looking for weird shit. After the Booth signpost we found some. Here's where the pop culture part comes in so let's treat it like a quiz. Which movies are these from? Post your answers in the comments. The first one's easy. Technically, the bike's supposed to be ridden by a wicked witch:

In this one I'm pretending to be a Space Pirate Botanist.

This one's harder. It was a fallback because the flower shop didn't have dogwoods.

Finally, a bonus question. It's from a TV show with a guy with a glass eye.

I'll post the answers in the next episode as I know you'll all be on the edge of your seats in anticipation.

  Enough of that frivolity. Now on to the good stuff. We left. The end.

  Ok. Not the end. On our way to Baltimore we planned to stop at Chincoteague Island to see the wild ponies. Neither of us had ever heard of this place until our sit in Minnesota last September as the homeowners were spending their vacation there. They told us all about it and so it stuck in our minds. When we returned home afterwards we told Jen about it and she was all, "Chincoteague? I've always wanted to go there!" Huh? It turns out a book called "Misty of Chincoteague" was published sixty or seventy years ago and girls read it and are all "I want to see the wild ponies" afterwards.

  Well, we arrived mid-afternoon and set off to the national park-y area where the horses are supposed to be and, lo and behold, there they were!

  Or not. That's a picture that hung in our hotel room. We were never within a mile of them. In order to see them you walk a couple of miles on a paved trail loop, which we did, enduring mosquitoes all the way, so that you can spy them from a great distance on the other side of a fence. Fence? Wild horses? Wha? What about all the "watch out for wild horses" signs and "don't feed the wild horses" signs? It seems, if they're behind a fence, we wouldn't have to worry about running into them on the road. Disappointing.

  We went back to our room, took a picture of the picture and said, "We did it." Then it was off to get dinner which requires a lot of effort in this town. We were there April 30 and, it turns out, nothing opens until May 1 which, I guess, is when the hordes of tourists descend on this place to stare at ponies from miles away behind a fence. We did manage to find one of the three open restaurants and I did some research about the pony situation.

  The picture we stole is from an event which takes place in July, You see, the ponies are actually owned by the Chincoteague Volunteer Fire Department (don't ask) and they herd the horses from their enclosure in order to separate the foals out for auction. This is done to keep the population in check to ensure they don't overrun a fragile ecosystem but, also, to raise funds for said FD. Weird. Apparently, thousands of people flock here in July to witness this thing, thus the raison d'etre for all the hotels, restaurants and mini-golf establishments.

  During my research I also discovered the real wild ponies can be seen on the north end of Assateague Island, which, in this case, is controlled by the Park Service instead of some greedy firemen. Now, you might ask, why is the book called "Misty of Chincoteague". Well, I guess the publishers figured "Misty of Assateague" sounded more like the chronicles of a stripper than a pre-teen girls adventure. So there you have it.

  The next morning we drove up to the ass-place and, yep, horses. Parking lot horses.

Further up the road, campground horses.

  Okay. This was much better than the firemen place but they didn't look very wild. And then, just as we were leaving, our Kruger National Park wildlife sighting instincts took hold and, BOOM, wild horses.

When I say "Kruger National Park wildlife sighting instincts" it means that we saw a couple of cars by the side of the road and people were out of their cars taking pictures. We're good, but not that good. And with that, we were off to Baltimore.

  One thing we did find in the ol' Atlas Obscura was a stone marker that defined the easternmost end of the Mason-Dixon Line.

Significant from an American history/Civil War perspective and, since I did put "history" in the title, there it is.

  With the day's discoveries covered we rolled up to this week's abode in Charm City. Yes, Baltimore tries to be known by this tourist-attracting sobriquet. We've been to "Charm City" many times but usually only long enough to eat some crab and watch a couple of ballgames. We usually hang out around the touristy Inner Harbor so have seen little else of this burg.

  This housesit, which I'd organized weeks ago, was advertised as being in a very walkable neighborhood, across from a park and near many interesting historical sights. We were psyched. Sounds great, right? Two days before our arrival I finally receive the guide owners are supposed to provide sitters and, in small print at the end is a note that, oh by the way, the house is kinda situated amidst some unsavoury areas. When I queried further I was given a hand-drawn map indicating places we should avoid when walking... like most of it. We're adventurous so we soldiered on.

  Upon our arrival we found the house to be large, quaint and... hot. No A/C. I checked the thermostat and all it said was "You're Dreaming". I texted the owner to ask if there was a secret password or retinal scan I needed to cool off the house that the owner claimed was air conditioned. "Oh, we turned it on yesterday and it wasn't working." Thanks for telling us. The past two days have been in the 90's (32-35C) outside... and kind of inside as well. Not impressed. We've been huddling in the one room that has it's own air conditioner, kind of the opposite of what we did in Cyprus. Sigh.

  Well, there are still things to do and people to see so yesterday we headed off to do that. We drove up to Gettysburg, site of the bloodiest battle of the Civil War. We spent some time wandering around the battlefield then headed to the National Cemetery where Lincoln gave his famous address, one of history's most famous speeches. At this point I'll note there were a couple of pictures that go with this but one of the cats jumped on my mouse and keyboard, erased them and screwed up my page formatting. It's hot in here and I'm pissed. Maybe I'll put them in a later episode. Or not. Pissed.

  With that done we headed off to visit with our friends Marilyn and Rick, from our earlier "raise money to buy soccer shoes for the girls in South Africa" event. They had recently returned from SA and introduced us to their friends Jeff and Patti, two more world adventurers. We spent the afternoon exchanging stories then headed off to return to the hot house and the cats. Tonight we're off to Washington to see the Jays play the Nationals and this weekend promises more time in DC. I'm sure there will be enough for one more episode before we return home so I'll leave it here, hot and ready to get out of this place.