Today’s post brought to you by: medicine
Grateful for: art
Trying hard to accept: American Airlines stuck me in middle seat for 2 hour flight to Chicago tomorrow. That’s what you get when you refuse to pay extra for a seat.
Johns Hopkins is H.U.G.E. Never mind a village, it’s a city in itself. It goes on and on for blocks.
There’s more here than in downtown Baltimore. And what’s more it’s stunningly gorgeous with the old buildings set among the big trees and carpets of autumn leaves.
Only complaint is the cramped Starbucks. But I’ve managed to squish into a big shared table of 18 year-old medical students.
Lucky I look 12. The child genius medical student.
Am about to recreate a scene from that Peter Greenaway movie ‘The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover’, swipe everyone’s laptops aside and lie down the middle of the table, like a human table runner.
“So kids. Starter for 10. What do you call the nerve that runs down the back of your thigh – the one that causes crippling pain if you mysteriously damage it? Bonus question: Want a free pumpkin spice grande latte? RIGHT. DO SOMETHING ABOUT MY PAIN. NOW.”
(Actually they’re all shooting me filthy looks right now as I sing along to Band Aid’s ‘Do they know it’s Christmas?’ You can do that in a city where nobody knows your name. Just like you can go to your local Starbucks at 9pm in your pyjamas.
Oh and on that – in this county of 329.45 million I finally found the one other person from NZ. Well actually only one-quarter NZ but I’ll take anything. ‘Twas a slow night in Starbucks last night as I ordered my Earl Grey tea and met Erin the server who was born in Auckland to NZ/US/Australian parents. Talk about born with a silver residency spoon in your gob.)
It’s funny. Well not funny exactly but trying (and failing) to see the humour in everything.
When I arrived in the US I was in constant pain from unfortunate falling off ladder incident.
A week later the wailing tailbone was but a memory as two bruised ribs screamed for my attention.
I thought that was bad enough. But hey presto! The ribs are barely making a squeak now the sciatic nerve has bullied its way to the top of the attention-seeking list.
It really is fascinating how pain in one area can so suddenly disappear once something new comes along. It’s a bit like drug addiction (I hear) – you need stronger and stronger doses to make the pain go away.
I got to Johns Hopkins via two art museums. Both free (naturally) but couldn’t have had more contrasting experiences.
The staff at the first one, Walters Museum, a stone’s throw from home/morning coffee shop were so friendly I thought they were going to ask me out for dinner.
Then hiked all the way up here to the Baltimore Museum of Art and got told off 4 times before I’d even left the bag check.
This post is going to be full of museum pictures so you can pretend you were standing beside me sharing the blame for everything.
Walking here through Charles Village – another misguided recommendation by Tourism Baltimore – I felt so uneasy I ducked into a CVS with a police car parked outside.
Being the opportunist I am I ‘bounced’ (in my mind; hobbled in reality) up to the very good looking pharmacist, asked him for his number and recommendation for painkillers.
In summary, forget it. Return to hospital and get something on prescription.
Hell. Freeze. Over.
I started out this morning in my usual way. Up before dawn (took 8 minutes to work up courage to actually move leg), then oatmeal (tick), flax seed (tick), Greek yoghurt (tick), banana (tick) and Starbucks coffee made in the big brother to your machine Kevin, eaten on the apartment window seat.
Then 2 hours in Ceremony Coffee Roasters with all the beautiful peeps of Mt Vernon.
To get there I passed groups of teenage girls lingering on the corner with their knee-length shaggy boots on.
Turns out they’re students at the Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women.
It’s a prep school modelled on one set up in Harlem to take girls out of the poverty cycle and into careers in maths, technology and science. Subjects, which as you know, girls tend to run a mile from.
Even though my nightmare stints at Ministry of Education quashed any interest I had in schooling, I wish I could be here for the school’s open day next week. Would love to see inside.
I particularly like these school pledges. They sum up how I want to live my life:
- I respect myself and others.
- I am kind and courteous.
- I am responsible for my behaviour and its consequences.
- I evaluate my choices, learn from my mistakes and persevere through challenges.
Right now I’d probably get a C minus for # 3 (food consumption on this trip). But an A+ for # 4.
Ok it’s getting dark and need to find Mom’s Organic Market and then walk home. Not going back the same way I got here that’s for sure. Might call an Uber friend.
Speaking of which, have done much research and worked out how to get to airport at 5.30am (!!) tomorrow on light rail for $1.90. Compared to $25 for My Friend Uber. And probably $125 for My Friend Taxi.
Don’t judge a mushroom sauce by its sloppiness. No this is not cat food, it’s actually a super delicious, super cheap, 86% healthy dinner I made last night out of the ‘But wait! They’re actually tofu!’ macaroni noodles. With mushroom gravy, real mushrooms, baked broccoli and baked eggplant. I was super impressed.
Super lucky to stumble across a Charles Rennie Mackintosh exhibition at Walters Museum. Didn’t know he painted as well. Quite the clever chap, and very dashing to boot.
There was an exhibition of 12 graders’ work. For obvs reasons this was my fave.
18th C diamond rings. They were the size of giant cockroaches. Handy for punch-ups in the parlour of a Sunday afternoon.
St Joseph waiting to see a doctor at The Villages Hospital ER department in Florida
Mary Magdalene waiting for the Amtrak service from Boston to arrive
Tiffany glass, 1897. I particularly love the art nouveau strip at the bottom. I had to lean on a table holding an 18th C urn to take this shot, freaking out I was about to set off an alarm.
Detail of stained glass, c. 1520. 1520!!!
Gate house of William Wyman estate, 1897. He gave all his land to Johns Hopkins University. Nice bloke.
Took this one in Mt Vernon for you Penny. You might have to zoom in to see what it says.
Loving all your details and humour (and both together at many times) as always.
Stop the eggplant etc for a while and get some ibuprofen despite what the chemist said. Read my too long email.
See if American airlines will give you an aisle seat because of your scatica (which you didn’t have when you booked) They probably won’t but tell them how NZ dollars are worth nearly what US ones are and whatever else your clever mind can come up with. (probably won’t work but …..)
fingers crossed.
Cool mural!