I've moved in and out of Washington, DC at least a half dozen times over the past 30-some years, so it's more "home" than anywhere else. But what I keep experiencing when I return now on visits is that old adage, "you can't go home again." What happens when we leave and come back to favorite places?
Our remembrances of the old days lock in time -- and the new experience can be terribly irritating. Let's face it, in the grip of our memories, we hate change! And then I found a favorite old haunt had not changed at all -- the restaurant, Vietnam Georgetown (read on).
First I have to grouse a little about how DC has changed. To wit -- traffic: Washington is gridlock. The city has grown three or maybe six times since it took off and decided to be more than a government town in the late '60s, but the road infrastructure hasn't. Downtown at rush hour is simply gridlock, not slowly moving confestion as in LA, but complete gridlock.
I got to ride on the Metro the first day it opened in the early '70s. What a frolicking overland cruise to the suburbs! Today those who have moved to the suburbs while they work downtown have to push and shove to get to work on the Metro, the system is so beyond its capacity. Same with the once innnovative highways, like I-66 through northern Virginia. Forget that. It was practically outdated once it opened. Today the fastest way from Dulles International Airport to downtown DC -- depending on the time of day -- is not along the highways that beckon you with road signs but via the twists and turns of neighborhoods, for which no maps exist. They have long caught onto this game by installing vexing road bumps throughout, but I still fool them and weave through their precious streets. One data point of small note: twenty years ago there were 90 Washington Flyer taxis serving Dulles International Airport. Today there are over 600.
But the theme of this article is not whining; it's goal is wisdom and some tools for being able to "go home again." Here goes...
DC is for walkers. That's the only way to get around downtown with any punctuality. DC is also about the flurry of power -- as in Town Cars and sirens and limos all around. DC is about young people because it's popular as a scalable urban center. My son recently out of college has moved to Georgetown,
where I aspired to back then. He's in pig heaven. I rest my case. DC is not also about going to the hotel or neighborhood you thought charming 5 or 10 years ago. It's likely to be in the throes of radical change, upscaling or massive redevelopment (witness the West End around The George Washington University). The lesson is clear -- an upscale hotel of the 90s can be a very tired experience in 2008. Make no assumptions -- check it out closely first.
Best of all, DC is occasionally about finding the old haunts that have not caved in, especially in Georgetown, which was truly so quaint and fun in the '60s and '70s. Change has driven up prices and driven out creativity. No offense, but how many CVS stores can a few blocks tolerate???
I'm sitting in Vietnam Georgetown, a popular restaurant that opened in 1973 on M Street NW with the first wave of in-migration from the Vietnam War. (Read this for an inside view from the son of the founder.) The restaurant was bustling and novel then, and our crowd often celebrated special events there in the late '70s. Today it still has a solid following of us longtimers as well as new generations who have discovered it. Authentic tasty real Vietnamese food, affordable, pleasant service, a garden out back. No pretense of white table cloths or French-American culinary marketing. Soups, crispy rolls, specialty plates, skewers and lemongrass this and that. The foot traffic bustles by -- suits and cell phones and occasional quizzical tourists. Pinstripes and boots -- thank heavens DC has changed for the better.
This evening the street traffic is my entertainment, except when my Treo is talking to me. I realize, with Treo in hand, I have changed, too. Thank you, DC and Vietnam Georgetown, for keeping enough of your spirit and substance that, I, too, can dip into what you've become for a short time and still "go home" again.

