DC is Where the Heart is

Of Washington DC, the late Anthony Bourdain once said: “DC is not just a city of dead presidents and cold marble monuments. This is a city filled with actual living breathing Americans. Not vessels for one ideology or another, empty suits and empty ideas.”

I am proud to say that I am one of those actual living breathing Americans that call DC home. These days; however, it’s hard to enjoy living in this beautiful city without the constant political drama. Nevertheless, I can look back on a perfect weekend spent exploring the city when the sun was shining, spirits were high, and most people got along just fine.

There are only a handful of weekends during late spring and early fall when the weather is just perfect in DC. On a splendid September Friday evening, after a particularly long week, I craved nothing more than a cold beer with a view to kickstart the weekend. So, my wife and I headed to the Canopy hotel rooftop at the Wharf. If you're excited by the idea of a cold beverage, a DJ, and a breathtaking view of the Potomac, this is the place to be. As the sun began to set, it was time for a change of scenery. Thus, we embarked on a quest to discover rooftops, terraces, and speakeasies throughout the city. Our journey led us to the Rooftop at Union Market, Cotton and Reed gin distillers, Calico, and Chicken and Whisky. It felt like a treasure hunt, where the true treasure wasn't the drinks themselves but rather the sense of freedom and anticipation of what’s to come. Needless to say, the hunt was getting expensive, and the hour grew late. There was one final task for the night – satisfying our late-night cravings. We headed to King George's in Georgetown for their renowned shawarma platter, which turned out to be the ultimate treasure.

On Saturday morning, we slept in until 11. Needing a refreshing boost after last night's indulgence, we made fresh juice to rejuvenate our bodies and feel somewhat "healthy." The weather remained splendid, so we decided to visit Great Falls National Park on the Maryland side for a hike along the Billy Goat trail. It is one of the finest hiking trails near DC, offering stunning views of the Potomac, opportunities for rock hopping and climbing, and a short yet challenging trek. By 3 pm, we had completed the trail and were ready for a well-deserved nap. On our way back, we stopped by Chipotle as a post-hike treat. With satisfied stomachs and weary bodies, we took a brief rest before preparing for our evening activity.

One of the tremendous privileges of residing in the nation's capital is the access to cultural events organized by various embassies. One of our favorite summer activities is attending Embassy Day, during which participating embassies open their doors and offer a multitude of cultural activities, delectable food for purchase, and educational programs. Tonight, we had tickets to a musical performance at the Argentinian embassy in the Dupont Circle neighborhood. Not only was the musical captivating, but the embassy building itself left an equally profound impression. Constructed in 1907 by a congressman from Pennsylvania as a family home, the building exhibits strong influences from the Beaux Arts architectural style. In 1913, the government of Argentina acquired the property, along with all its furniture and belongings, which are preserved to this day, for a sum of $300,000. Today, I imagine the grandfather clock in the foyer could alone be worth $300,000.

After enjoying the show, we strolled down the street to Rakuya for our dinner reservation. As Sinatra would put it, the summer wind was blowing in from across the street, so we sat outside to indulge in our favorite pastime: people watching. To kick off the meal, we ordered the delectable fried shishito peppers and the mouthwatering hanger steak, both of which were excellent. I couldn't resist the temptation of a good bowl of ramen, so I ordered one, while Hebah opted for an assortment of sushi. In life, there are moments when everything aligns to wash away all worries, if only for a fleeting instant. A full moon in the sky, a cup of sake in hand, and the company of a beautiful woman, I knew I was experiencing such a moment. It was a brief yet profound interlude of happiness and tranquility. . A brief moment of utter happiness and peace of mind. So simple the circumstances, yet so palpable the feeling. We had one more carafe of sake and traded a few more jokes as I slurped my way through the last bit of broth. Tomorrow is a new day I thought, but tonight I was a happy careless man.

Growing up in a Middle Eastern household comes with a few privileges (believe it or not!). Namely, the food. In my family, breakfast on weekends was sacred. My dad, the breakfast maestro, would prepare an array of dishes fit to feed a village. Different types of omelets, hummus, fava beans with olive oil and garlic, falafel, various cheeses, cured olives, and fruits adorned the table. Sometimes, my mother would even make cheese, egg, and zaatar mini pies. In the past, this hearty meal provided sustenance for a long day toiling in the fields. Nowadays, it leaves us longing for a nap. Nevertheless, on Sunday morning, I awoke with an urge. I prepared a veggie omelet, a bowl of fava beans, and a couple of side dishes. A cup of Turkish coffe

e accompanied by a brief Sunday morning read set the tone for the day as we made our way to the noon mass at the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception. This imposing basilica stands as the largest Catholic church in North America and one of the largest in the world. The four magnificent pipe organs and the musicians presenting a repertoire spanning six centuries never fail to uplift hearts and minds with the power and beauty of music. Even for those not attending mass, the awe-inspiring architecture and intricate mosaics in over 80 chapels and oratories, representing diverse cultures from around the globe, make the basilica a remarkable destination. With hearts full of grace and half-filled stomachs, we made our wat to brunch.

While there are several brunch spots in the city that we have enjoyed over the years such as El Centro, Le Diplomate, and Duke’s grocery. Nonetheless, we ended up at one of our favorite places in Georgetown: Martin’s Tavern. This fourth-generation, all-American tavern possesses an unparalleled charm. It holds a rich history as the place where JFK proposed to Jackie, where Mickey Mantle and his fellow players would drop by when in town, and where every president from Harry S. Truman to George W. Bush has made a stop. We opted to sit outside, relishing in the joy of sipping mimosas while observing the bustling scene. After brunch, we indulged in a scoop of ice cream from Thomas Sweets and embarked on a leisurely stroll through Georgetown, the city's oldest neighborhood, where we admired the splendid Georgian and Victorian homes dating back to the 18th and 19th centuries. Our journey led us to the historic estate of Dumbarton Oaks, with history dating back to the 1700’s. The 27-acre property is now owned by Harvard University and includes a museum, a historic mansion, cemetery, and gardens designed by Beatrix Farrand. We spent couple of hours exploring the gorgeous property before making our way to the Georgetown waterfront.

As we strolled hand in hand along the Georgetown waterfront, the sun gracefully descended beyond the horizon, casting a magnificent display of orange and purple hues upon the sky, adorned with a few scattered clouds. In retrospect, this had been an exceptional weekend—a quintessential DC experience. It was a weekend brimming with festivities, culture, culinary

delights, history, captivating architecture, and thrilling adventures. Few other cities can rival

the diverse array of offerings that DC and its surrounding areas provide.From a plethora of free museums and access to iconic monuments, to expansive outdoor parks, riveting concerts and shows, picturesque rivers, lakes, and vistas, as well as a rich tapestry of culture, history, and delectable cuisine—DC truly has it all.

At times, I contemplate DC as a benevolent mother, tirelessly bestowing her gifts upon us. And yet, we, her squabbling children, often exploit and pull her in various directions, driven by our biased agendas. Perhaps, if we collectively shift our focus towards cherishing the city instead of dividing it, if we aspire for less and offer more, if we all smile more, maybe, just maybe, there will be hope.

Snake charmers, Tajine, and Tea

Like an entranced child entering Disney World for the first time, I was captivated. The alluring scents of various meats sizzling over carefully tended charcoal filled my nostrils from every direction. To my right, a man in a food stall skillfully stacked freshly steamed lamb heads like a precarious house of cards. On my left, a snake charmer played his pipe, while curious tourists observed with fascination. People from all walks of lives flocked from every direction to revel in music bands, witness boxing matches, adorn themselves with henna tattoos, and indulge in delectable food. As I ventured deeper into Jemaa el Fna square, a UNESCO World Heritage site nestled in the heart of Marrakesh, a mix of excitement and apprehension overwhelmed me.

Morocco, the gem of North Africa, a country inhabited by 37 million people, embraced by the Atlantic Ocean to the West, the Mediterranean Sea to the North, and the Sahara Desert to the South. Morocco achieved its independence from France relatively recently, in 1956. While Arabic is the official language, French is widely spoken. As a native Arabic speaker, I found comprehending the Moroccan dialect, a blend of Arabic, Berber, and a hint of French, nearly impossible. Fortunately, everyone spoke formal Arabic.

We arrived in Marrakesh on a scorching summer day in mid-July, having embarked on a round trip flight from Madrid via Ryan Air, at a mere cost of $45 per person, excluding baggage fees. Our first priority was lunch. We set out with our noses as our guide and eyes as our compass. Ascending a narrow staircase leading to a rooftop transformed into a cozy family restaurant, my growling stomach fixated on one thing—Tajine. A renowned North African dish, derived its name from the ceramic pot it is cooked in. Originating from the Berber culture, this dish has stood the test of time for centuries. Ingredients such as vegetables, a choice of meat, and a medley of spices are combined in the tajine, simmered over an open fire or baked in an oven. My wife opted for couscous, another staple of North African cuisine. When the feeble rotation of the fan failed to provide relief from the heat, two glasses of refreshing date milkshakes did the trick.

With contented stomachs, we embarked on our next endeavor—a leisurely stroll through the bustling souqs, or marketplaces. I must warn you, souqs are a perilous temptation when accompanied by your wife and can cause serious harm to your wallet. Picture this: a mesmerizing labyrinth of hundreds, if not thousands, of vendors sprawled across meticulously preserved medieval alleyways, offering an array of goods that cater to every desire. Turn in any direction, and you will encounter gold, textiles, spices, homeware, crafts, leather goods, lanterns—anything your little heart desires. It felt as though I had traveled back to the year 1191 and assumed the role of Aladdin. My Jasmine unleashed her shopping prowess, and we eventually made our way back to our Riad, a charming Andalusian-style hotel, just in time for my hands to regain sensation after bearing the weight of numerous shopping bags.

A visit to Morocco would be incomplete without indulging in a hammam, a traditional Arabic bath. After we dropped off an extra luggage worth of purchases, we ventured towards a 500-year-old traditional hammam. Descending a flight of stairs into what felt like a clandestine abyss, we entered a hallway leading to an underground sauna room. There, I was greeted by an older gentleman, a seasoned practitioner of the hammam for the past 40 years. One need not possess extraordinary courage to embark on this experience, but a certain fortitude is required. With his strong yet delicate hands, the gentleman, dubbed "the magician," skillfully scrubbed me from head to toe using natural hot water, organic olive oil soap, and an exfoliating loofah. Within ten minutes, I succumbed to his magic. Lying there, I felt five pounds lighter, seven years younger, and utterly invigorated.

As the sun's rays bid farewell to the horizon, we ventured into what would perhaps be the pinnacle of our trip—Jemaa el Fna. For dinner, we traversed the square, hopping from one stall to another, determined to savor as many dishes as possible. Harrira soup, Chermoula, and Mechoui were all extraordinary. To culminate our evening, we opted for drinks and a show, although not what you might envision—something far better. We discovered a rooftop terrace overlooking the square, where we indulged in traditional mint tea. As I gazed upon the chaotic yet thrilling spectacle unfolding below, a glimpse of everyday life unfolded before me. An elderly man savored a piping hot bowl of Harira while casting a contemplative gaze over the square from the food stall counter. A young girl brimmed with delight as her father handed her a cone of cotton candy. A couple sat at the square's edge, enraptured in each other's company, sharing a bag of sunflower seeds. Lives being lived, momentarily captured, then gone. Two hours later, we remained seated at our small corner table, holding hands, sipping mint tea, and dreading the day we would bid farewell to Morocco.