cupcake, cupcake, cupcake

I declare America to be the land of cupcakes, cupcakes, cupcakes.

Land of cupcakes, brownies, and chocolate chip cookies. Today at the Farmer’s Market Hyuna and I devoured half of a lemon pound cake while the sparrows were begging for crumbs. It was divine. Then afterwards, a group of friends walked to Georgetown to try the infamous ‘Georgetown Cupcakes’. It melts in your mouth and for some reason leaves you feeling really guilty. Cupcakes like those should be illegal. You know you’re swallowing a teaspoon of sugar for every bite. But here, you can get away with it. Then, at the exclusive J Crew event for GW students, they had an array of small chocolate chip cookies. I had half a bite, and actually stopped (something I have a really hard time doing with food) because I felt sick. So much sugar intake for one day.

Oh America, the land of baked goods. Be good to me – do not tempt me further.

the city I love

It’s 2 p.m. and my Comparative Politics of Middle and Southern Africa class is out. I head towards Citi Bank from Bell Hall. As I pass the IMF and the World Bank the proximity of both which Emily says is part of a conspiracy (must look into further), not only am I enjoying the weather but I also realize I’ve been falling in love with the city for 3 weeks. D.C. is a city of many things, one being languages. My ears pick up Italian, Spanish, Chinese, and well, English, on the benches, corners and sidewalks of streets. It’s a city of diversity, a melting pot of sorts that symbolizes I guess what America is all about. The man strumming his electric guitar on the corner only adds to the persona of the city.

Friday afternoon’s walk will take us to the National Gallery of Art. Sarah and I pass the Lincoln Memorial and Monument, all the while admiring the beautiful nature in the middle of this small big city. And I enjoy watching her be amused by the huge squirrels which I have now become accustomed to seeing everywhere. We head towards the Capitol building, get lost along the way, but finally make it to the West Wing of the National Gallery of Art. I’m not an art expert, but I take time to appreciate the beauty. The amount of art, even in the West Wing, is too overwhelming and this is a place I must return to. When the gallery closes we head towards the adjacent Sculpture Garden where a jazz concert featuring Bruce Swaim has just begun. We say hi to some friends and find vacant seats on a bench. The man besides me says “Ni hao,” and I politely correct him – “We’re not Chinese.” Then we must be Japanese. No. Vietnamese. What, no. The fact that we are Koreans leads to a friendly half an hour conversation about his Korean friend who had serious gambling problems, families, and dating tips. I love the fact that I can have conversations with complete strangers and share cultures and thoughts. We enjoy the music before walking back to campus – on the way we make a bet on how many runners we will see (well over 25), which I lose and now I owe her 3 scoops of Ben & Jerry’s icecream.

3 weeks. And I’ve fallen in love with a city.

at the National Gallery of Art