OH! D.C. HOW CHARMING YOU ARE!

December 14^th, the day my butt got super sore after flying from Chile to America. Only three weeks before classes started at Drexel, enough time to immerse me in the mundane quintessential experience of being an ‘Almost… almost Washingtonian’… The first 24 hours were a charm. Once I landed at DCA, he was—a special person waiting for me at the gate. We loaded his car with my cumbersome luggage and drove to the city at midnight. I remember the sharp and quiet electric chills as I caught glimpses of the monuments around the National Mall. The night was quiet with not much traffic, and given that it was a Saturday, the streets were coming alive with glimpses of what D.C.’s nightlife looks like. In the quiet, those moonlit structures glowed on their own. Yet—the Capitol stood apart—regal, powerful, immovable. It’s just there, static, nurturing the complex system that America has become, holding space for the future to unfold. Of course, my first thought was, “Oh, what a pretty building!” no further thoughts, nor feelings, just the first encounter with a place that had yet to become one of the things that I admire most about the city.

Besides its monumental architecture and past engraved on each corner, D.C. has many unique, cozy, and vibrant spots to get lost in. However, the agenda for my first day there was already full, leading to my first, and special visit to Costco! Where after some shopping, I had the pleasure of tasting a deliciously greasy hot dog and sharing a slice of pizza, that, as a lactose intolerant individual, became an act of lovely self-harm, nothing to worry about as my tummy got better due to my inner drive to perform good for the upcoming days. Before I started to walk around and explore the city, I followed my incredibly special guide through Dupont Circle— his neighborhood. It was more than embassy row—which given the considerable number of embassies, for some reason, I never caught the Chilean one— and historic mansions like the Anderson House, it was alive with a diverse community, a place where funky gay bars and eclectic restaurants thrive. The energy felt genuine, lived-in, and welcoming. It was pleasant to walk around those streets as each day passed.

Then there was Adams Morgan—a pulse of vibrant culture. Music poured from lively bars, and the scent of international cuisine drifted through the air. Colorful murals whispered stories of inclusivity and creativity. One morning, we found ourselves in a classic diner—my very first diner experience in the States. It felt like such a quintessentially American thing to do. It was a small but memorable moment that made me feel even more connected to the culture. A big deal and a sweet gesture, since it was something that I constantly mentioned to my inamorato… Sitting in that booth, surrounded by the low hum of conversations and the comforting aroma of food, I felt folded into the culture. Or maybe I was just starving and desperate to get a bite from those pancakes! It was great and delish regardless!!!

I was incredibly lucky to explore D.C through the eyes of a local—my special person. My experience was not that of a tourist; it was as if I had lived there for ages, yet, it was just three weeks, with a special Christmas and New Year’s that were also enveloped in the city’s quiet charm. Even after spending Christmas alone, D.C. felt warm, familiar—the kind of place that wraps around you when you need it. I wandered the streets, hit the gym, did some swimming, practiced yoga, and settled into small routines that made the city feel like home.

One afternoon, we spent time exploring the Portrait Gallery and the Smithsonian American Art Museum. The quiet halls, filled with art and stories, felt introspective and grounding. Surrounded by so much history and creativity, it was easy to feel connected to something larger as if the city itself was sharing its own stories with us. It was particularly important to me, as my earlier experience with American art has always been through online media. And for someone who, as a foreigner, has an intense sense of connection with Americana. It was a full-circle moment.

Later that day, we went to a Chinese restaurant my friend used to frequent back in the day. There was something comforting about stepping into a place filled with his old memories, and interesting, as according to him— it was different, but for me… something completely new. Over lunch, we had an unexpectedly ridiculous moment with the hot sauce— while I was fighting for my life as hell colonized my mouth—my date was filled with emotion to have me there—or maybe he was just crying because the hot sauce got into his eyes. As the meal ended and the spice subsided, the fortune cookie offered me an interesting message, one that felt perfectly timed and strangely fitting.

One particularly emotional day was when we visited Capitol Hill, the day I fell in love with it— yet, a day where mentally my mind was at tempest. We joined a tour that led us through its grand halls, taking in the intricate architecture and the breathtaking art that adorned its walls. It struck a deeper chord, something in me shifted— I felt quiet, reflective. Now that the experience settled somewhere in the important parts of my brain cortex, I understand why that day became so difficult to process. I was overwhelmed by feelings, and that was scary. Away from my natural environment, getting this strong familiarity from my surroundings—I felt home, and that meant that my feelings towards someone were changing. That spiral led me to question everything. Why I was there? Was I doing the right thing? Will everything be worth it in the long run? My mind was a mess, sulky, nonchalant. Distancing myself from a realm that I was so desperate to experience. I was embracing everything— space, time, emotion. I kept wandering around, avoiding my anchor, letting my mind take the lead.

I wandered into the Library of Congress, marveling at its grandeur. The weight of history in those spaces stirred something deep in me, leaving me even more reflective and overwhelmed. Throughout all of this, my companion would share stories about the neighborhoods we explored, the Capitol, and even the White House. His stories brought the city to life, connecting every landmark and street to the rich history woven into Washington, D.C. Being surrounded by so much history while hearing these stories made each step feel significant, as if I was walking through the layers of the past and present all at once. An immersive evening, and a gate that allowed me to get better insight into who my dearest friend is, as his own self belonged to those landmarks at some point. It took me some time to appreciate that— and I am sorry that I couldn’t express that to him at the moment,  as my mind was still trying to break through the mist of thoughts that clouded my judgement. It’s important to feel it— embrace it. And then allow us the time to reflect on those many storms that will lure important moments and people into a void of anger and sadness. It makes the experience even more complex and memorable. I wish I were different in that sense, but I cannot deny my own humanity and sensitive heart. I can just be thankful that I’m understood and supported by the people that I communicate those feelings with.

After the emotional storm, needing a change of pace, I suggested a spontaneous trip to Alexandria the next morning. We explored the Old Torpedo Factory, now a vibrant art center, and wandered through the freezing streets of the town. We strolled along the harbor, browsing the many cozy stores tucked into historic buildings. At one point, we shared some delicious yet messy beignets, laughing as the powdered sugar clung to our gloves and jackets. My favorite part of this day trip was stumbling upon this charming spot called Eddie’s, known for its delicious Italian deli sandwiches. The food was incredible, and the laid-back atmosphere was the perfect contrast to the previous day’s whirlwind of emotions. It was a new experience for both, being my first time there, and his perhaps third visit to the old town. Afterwards, as the cold deepened, we had a high five and drove back to the city, feeling both refreshed and content. It was an almost perfect day, ‘almost’ because the freezing wind was not really that charming… still— I had fun.

One night, I got a daring proposal to dive into D.C. ‘s nightlife with a round of bar hopping, this being right after doing an intense workout and yoga session. I guess we had room in our bodies for some extra empty calories. Healthy mind, healthy body! We started at Number 9, moved on to Trade, and ended up at The Little Gay Pub. I couldn’t stop bragging that the drinks were way too soft and that I needed something stronger—something with real power. I talked a big game until I downed a Moscow Mule, followed by a vodka soda, and finally a dirty martini— this being legally old enough to drink! By the end of it, I was absolutely hammered. It hit me harder than I ever expected, but honestly, it was one of the most fun nights I had. We laughed, had deep drunken convos, and stumbled through the city, making memories that still make me smile. A nice spontaneous adventure.

Then there was Georgetown, the place I cherish the most. A stark contrast to the overall looks of the main city, with its cobblestone streets and historic charm. From short walks around, to movie dates, the place felt like a pocket of comfort among the vibrant and hectic experiences that I had during my stay around D.C, becoming a place that I would visit constantly.

After a workout at the gym, my super special workout buddy and I embarked on a hectic yet exhilarating bike ride to the AMC Theater in Georgetown. The route was anything but smooth, navigating through traffic, weaving between cars, and conquering steep hills tested both our endurance and our patience— I was panicking during the whole ride. Yet, the reward was unmatched. The crisp winter air brushed against our faces as we sped along the scenic waterfront, the Potomac River glistening under the bluish sunlight. Arriving at the theater, hearts racing and cheeks flushed, we shared a high five in celebration before settling in to watch Nosferatu.

As the movie ended, we stepped outside to find the weather had turned rainy. Laughing and huddling close, we rushed home through the wet streets, acknowledging our perfect time management for that day as we prepared for the New Year’s party we were hosting that night! The city seemed to shimmer under the rain, reflecting the joy and anticipation we felt for the night ahead. We improvised decorations with some balloons we managed to find while shopping, we prepared a delicious—not friendly for the lactose intolerant folks charcuterie board, and we shared a toast with an exquisite champagne as we moved into the new year. I was feeling grateful for my time there, my good company, and overwhelmed by a sweet loving feeling that had been building up since I stepped into the city. Yet—a bittersweet celebration, as it was also representing and ending, and the start to my journey in Philly…

On my last days in D.C, we took this quiet, emotional walk-through Georgetown Cemetery and then Arlington National Cemetery. The cold air bit our skin, and the gravestones stood still, like silent echoes of the past. It was one of those moments where everything slows down, and you realize just how much a place has gotten under your skin. Three weeks in Washington, and somehow it felt like home—a strange, bittersweet comfort knowing I’d have to leave soon.

That walk hit differently. Surrounded by all that history and silence, it felt like the past and present melted into this still, reflective moment. It’s hard to explain what I loved most about my time there because it wasn’t about checking off places or following some tourist trail. It was the real, human moments—the connections—that made it unforgettable. D.C. isn’t boring, not even close, and referring to it like that when describing it to people was a complete error of mine. I know it’s not boring because a part of me stayed behind, with someone who made sure every second counted. It wasn’t just a trip; it was the kind of experience that lingers. A perfect little rendezvous I’ll carry with me forever.

Thinking back, my special person—the one waiting at the gate, had been dedicated to making sure I had the full American experience from the start—even just a stop at Costco or dinner at Chick-fil-a… small, ordinary things, they mattered. They made me feel like I belonged.