Day 3 Crazy Heat, Gravestones and Georgetown University

What was I thinking!   Hot Hot Hot.  The best of intentions and not so terrific execution on my last day in Georgetown.

Note to self……. Always carry the number for a taxi service in your wallet.  This is a basic Travel 101 rule and I forgot to follow it.

It was a beautiful morning, bright and sunny, with a little breeze and I ignored the hint of humidity that was creeping subtly into the temperature.  I had the hotel call for a taxi and headed off to visit Dumbarton Oaks and the Oak Hill Cemetary.  I know that sounds weird, but the day before, I had seen glimpses of the elegant tomb sculptures on  the way to the cathedral and had vowed to come back to explore, I asked the taxi driver to drop me off just down the street from the cemetary at Dumbarton Oaks.

Dumbarton Oaks is a house museum which houses what I understand is a wonderful Pre-columbian and Byzantine collection and wonderful gardens.  I never got to see either one on this trip. Travel 101 rule 2.  Check the opening and closing hours.  This simple forgetful omission left me peering through the locked gates in dismay.   Marking that museum off the day’s list (it was only 11 am! I wasn’t going to hang around until 2:00 pm when it opened) I walked the few blocks to the cemetery.

The old cemetery which was opened in 1849 was peaceful and the only sounds were the rustle of the trees and buzz of a bee or two.  The green landscape was laid out in terraces as the grounds dipped down and up the rolling hillside. I noticed a runner taking a break on one of the far off decorative benches and a woman replacing flowers and cleaning off a headstone.  It looked from the basket she had with her that she might be having a nice long visit and maybe lunch with her loved one.  Other than that, I was the only person wandering through the beautiful works of funerary art.

Tall obelisks, weeping angels, draped urns, giant Celtic crosses.  I kept thinking that it must be a pleasure to rest among these graceful sculptures.  As I stepped over to one of the stone stairways that connected the terraces, I did a double-take. The stone steps were each inscribed with a name and date and I realized that I was walking on grave monuments.  The stone was polished granite, smooth as glass and I felt a little guilty as walked down the steps to the next level, as if I was desecrating a burial place.  I spied what looked like a Greek temple and headed over to see what family was buried there.  It was the Eustis crypt and in the center of the temple floor was what looked like a stone plug with an iron ring handle.  I could just imagine the family pulling out the stone over the decades and adding another family member to the crypt below every so often.

The most interesting part of the cemetery was where the mausoleums had been dug deep into the hillside at the far edge of the cemetery.  The winding path led me to the grassy roofs of the crypts and I was determined to find a way down to explore their entrances.  The mausoleum's facades were of every style and shape.  Some had rough stone fronts, some were elegant and classical and at least one had a huge circular entrance like a giant open mouth waiting to engulf whoever would next be interred. 

Wandering back toward the entrance, my curiosity satisfied, I stopped to take in a small brick chapel with pointed arch windows, tall gabled roof and a rose window. The chapel was built in the Gothic style by James Renwick and is a beautiful example of the 19th century Romantic Movement.  In fact, the majority of the cemetery reflects the aesthetic taste of that era.

Later, doing some research on the internet, I learned that the cemetery was founded by philanthropist banker Mr. W.W. Corcoran (i.e. Corcoran Gallery) and that there are many notable people such as William Lincoln, President Lincoln’s son buried there, but that was not the reason I was wandering through the graves that day.  I was there purely to experience the artistic beauty that can be found in these historic burial grounds.  I’ll leave searching for long-dead famous people to someone else.

Lacking a taxi phone number, I decided to walk back to Georgetown.  Really Stupid Idea!   It was so hot that I began to feel light-headed after only a few blocks.   Fortunately, I was  walking right by Tudor Place.  I walked into their museum shop and immediately admitted that I had been there a couple days before, but was in desperate need of a taxi.  The staff at the Tudor House are on my list of the best people on the planet!  Especially the senior visitor services manager.  I stood in front of the tiny portable air conditioning unit trying to keep from passing out and recovering from the heat while they called for a taxi. 

When the taxi arrived, I gave the driver directions to let me off at Georgetown University.  It is definitely a beautiful university.  Georgetown is the oldest Catholic and Jesuit University in the United States and was founded the same year as the birth of our nation 1789.  The university has seen the most important  school’s official colors.  While I wandered, I noticed many families with their college age kids along for what I was sure was trip to scope out the university.

I don't know what I was thinking.  After snapping a few shots, temporary amnesia (probably from the heat) forced me to make the mistake of walking back to Georgetown.  Big Mistake!  It was the most miserable walk I have taken in a long long time.  There is nothing interesting enough to put yourself through that hell.   The saving grace was a stop to cool down and rehabilitate my electrolytes at the Thunder Burger and Bar.  As soon as I reached M street, I focused on making it there.  With huge thanks I sat down at the bar and ordered ice cold water and a corona beer.  Seriously, it took at least 15 minutes of fanning myself in the cool interior for me to stop my blood from boiling.  I realized I was seriously overheated, so PLEASE, PLEASE, be careful about your exposure during the summer in DC!

I finally cooled down and headed back to our hotel and the icy air-conditioning of our room.

Our farewell dinner in Georgetown was at the tiny restaurant called Don Lobos Mexican Grill.  It was an unassuming place, but the chunky guacamole and chicken tacos were to die for.  The tacos, cradled by corn tortias were stuffed with sautéed chicken, queso fresco and crisp fresh lettuce and tomatoes.  According to my companions that night, the rest of the menu and the margueritas were fantastic also.  Mexican food can definitely cure even the most worn-out, walked-out, heat-stroked person.  I felt my energy coming back, but out-voted by my companions, we retired for a good-night’s sleep.