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.