We had a chock full weekend involving art, performance, travel, and lots and lots of flarn.
Thursday we went to the opening performance of 33 Variations at Arena Stage. It was very enjoyable, alternatively moving and funny, and good performances all around. We both liked it a lot, particularly the set design and lighting design. There's an interesting article about it in the WaPo.
Friday was taken up with much wedding necessities, various flarn tasks, and then driving north. I wanted to take P on a surprise trip, and didn't want him to know where until we got there, but he figured it out when we were about 50 miles away. Of course, when booking out hotel for the evening on Travelocity, they failed to mention that the Days Inn, ahem, "near the zoo," was in fact in a rather dicey place. Pulling off the highway P said "isn't this the part of Philly where all the murders are always happening?" We rolled up to the Days Inn Ghetto at about nine at night, having passed a number of neighborhood characters along the way. What did I know? I mean, when the Fabulous Miss A lived in Philly and my parents were just across the bridge I always visited her in Center City or when into CC with my mom or whatever. I didn't spend a whole lotta time elsewhere (except for, you know, the airport).
So. We pull into the parking lot where a bottle blond woman who is clearly on the clock is leaning into an SUV while her bare booty is flashing everyone. Uh-huh. I go into the lobby to check in and wait in line behind a loud, dirty woman who smells very bad and is calling everyone either "honey," "sugar," or "baby." Behind the bullet-proof glass is a South Asian man in his forties who is angry. He won't look at anyone unless you demand that he talk to you, and even then maybe not. He seems to be thinking, "Damn all of you, I have a degree in engineering and came to America to make my fortune as an engineer and here I am dealing with the dregs of society in a hotel. I should have stayed in Lahore." He pointedly ignored me as I waited, and also pointedly ignored the man banging on his window saying, "where can I get a orange juice, man? I needs an orange juice. Where can I get a orange juice?" Smelly lady finally moved on, though stopped to tell the orange juice man, in a booming voice, "YOU CAN GET ORANGE JUICE AT THE STORE, HONEY. JUST WALK OUT HERE PAST THE IHOP AND YOU CAN GET A JUICE AT THE STORE, BABY."
The other man behind the glass was older, sporting little round glasses, it was a bit like having Ben Kingsley playing Ghandi getting your hotel key. He also seemed a bit like he may have been on a hunger strike because he was moving very very slowly. When I got back out to the parking lot the woman was still hanging her bare booty out of the SUV. We parked and went inside, contemplating whether or not the Jeep would be there in the morning.
The halls smelled of stale smoke (surprise), and the room smelled of deep seated damp. Surprisingly, we had a quiet enough sleep, mostly because the A/C ran at about 10,000 decibels. It was like having an airplane taking off continually in the bedroom. We got up early and headed into the city, thankful to find the Jeep there and in one piece.
Coffee, breakfast, I took Phil to the Mutter Museum, which was the reason why I'd decided to take him to Philly in the first place. I think I've had it on my mind recently, as I've been thinking a lot about Wunderkammers, and the Mutter is probably as close to a Wunderkammer that you can get at this point.But also because I knew that it was something that he'd be interested in (and he was).
While in Philly we saw signs up for the Franklin Institute of Science saying that they had a King Tut exhibit. Whoo! Since both of us had had a major impression on us made at a young age by King Tut mania in the sevenites, but had never had a chance to go see the actual exhibit, we were all over it. It was an interesting exhibit.... but it was also highly disappointing. If you click on the link you will see that all of their advertising has what appears to be the famous mask (it's actually a much much smaller piece that was obviously chosen for the advertising due to its resemblance to the most famous pieces from the tomb). But, while the exhibit was chock full of neat stuff that was in his tomb (canopic jars, chairs, helper statues), neither the sarcophogus nor the mask were anywhere to be found. The stuff got progressively more interesting and ornate as we went through, and we rounded that final corner thinking, well, here, at last will be the mask! And then found ourselves in the gift shop. It was a very pricey show, and falsely advertised. Not a bad show, but I think we both would have enjoyed it more if we'd known that we weren't going to see the most famous pieces-- and since they choise a piece that invokes it to be shown on all the posters and ads the implication is certainly that we should expect to see them.
We also would have enjoyed it a lot more if there were fewer people. Good gravy. Lots of people lost in their audio tours, blocking the view forever while they listen to the droning voice on the tape, stumbling like zombies through the exhibit. And lots of people with kids who were too young to really make it through an exhibit that long, one man getting angry at his seven year old for not being interested in or fascinated by the same things he was interested in and fascinated by. "Well you'd know that if you'd been paying attention, but you weren't!" Dude, he's seven. This is the sixth room of stuff. His attention isn't mature enough for that. Give the kid a break.
Also packed into the weekend were a photo trip to Arlington National Cemetery (lots and lots of people there) and a trip to the National Gallery to see the photography show on modernity in Central Europe. The show was very interesting, with some really lovely photographs, and an interesting view on the development of photography in Hungary, Czech, Slovenia, Russia, etc. It's definitely worth a trip down there to take a look-- and is closing soon, so hop to it.
We went to the gallery with friends of ours and we all went to a new-ish Mexican place on 7th afterwards where we had a whole lotta margarits (which were very good, and made me very sleepy). Standing on the corner by the Archives metro stop afterwards, about to head in opposite directions, we chatted for a while, until a very happy man came up to the group and announced, "Someone said that there's gonna be ducks coming out of the cake!" He smiled and moved on. And with that, we headed home.