Oh, D.C.

The capital of the United States, formally known as the District of Columbia and simply called D.C. by those who call it home. It remains, to this day, the most beautiful city I have ever had the privilege of visiting and living in.

There is something quietly captivating about Washington. It was conceived not only as the seat of a nation but as a city designed with intention, where grand avenues, open green spaces, and monumental architecture exist in remarkable harmony. Its urban plan would later inspire the design of Brasília, another capital imagined from the ground up.

Nestled between Maryland and Virginia, Washington has a grace that reveals itself slowly. The Potomac River winds gently through the landscape, and each spring the city is transformed beneath clouds of delicate pink blossoms. Few sights are more unforgettable.

One of the city’s most cherished traditions began in 1912, when the City of Tokyo presented more than 3,000 cherry blossom trees as a gift of friendship from the people of Japan to the people of the United States. The initiative was championed by Tokyo’s mayor, Yukio Ozaki, and those trees have since become one of Washington’s most beloved symbols. In Japan, the sakura is far more than a beautiful flower. It represents the fleeting nature of life, reminding us that beauty is often inseparable from impermanence. Every spring, those blossoms quietly tell that story once again.

Washington is also home to some of the world’s most recognizable landmarks. The White House and the U.S. Capitol stand as enduring symbols of American democracy, while the city’s museums offer an extraordinary journey through art, science, history, and culture. The Smithsonian Institution, the largest museum complex in the world, is reason enough to spend days wandering through the city. The National Gallery of Art and the National Museum of Natural History are only the beginning, and many of these remarkable spaces have become familiar through films and documentaries.

What surprised me most, however, was how peaceful Washington feels. Despite being a capital city, it never seemed overwhelming. With more than 600 parks and abundant green spaces, the air often feels remarkably fresh, creating the comforting impression that nature has never wandered very far away.

Georgetown remains one of my favorite neighborhoods. The oldest in the city, it is filled with charming streets where independent shops and inviting cafés sit alongside beautifully preserved eighteenth century buildings. It is a place where history and everyday life seem to walk together. Some even say they are accompanied by a few ghosts, as Georgetown has long been considered one of Washington’s most haunted neighborhoods. I cannot confirm that, though. During my time there, I never met any, unless they were simply being polite enough not to disturb me.

And while the famous monuments deserve every bit of their reputation, some of Washington’s greatest treasures are found just beyond the usual itinerary. Hillwood Estate offers a glimpse into extraordinary collections and elegant gardens, while the Municipal Fish Market, the oldest continuously operating open air fish market in the United States, serves some of the most memorable crab cakes I have ever tasted.

There is another reason Washington has remained so deeply rooted in my memory. It was there, as a twenty year old newcomer, still finding my way through a new country and a new language, that I enrolled in my very first photography course. My initial goal was simply to improve my English. I never imagined that one of my photographs would be chosen as the best in the class.

Looking back, I see that moment differently. At the time, it felt like a small achievement, something to quietly celebrate before moving on. Today, I recognize it as one of the first signs that art had already begun to shape the way I saw the world. Long before I imagined writing stories or making documentaries, that photograph had quietly planted a seed. It taught me that a camera could do more than capture an image. It could preserve a feeling, reveal a story, and help me find my own voice.

Perhaps that is why Washington has never been just another city in my memory. It is where beauty first taught me to slow down and pay attention. It is where I began to understand that places can shape us just as profoundly as the people we meet there. Looking back now, I realize that the journey I thought was about learning a language was also the beginning of learning another one, the quiet language of observation, storytelling, and art. Some seeds take years before they bloom. Mine, I believe, was planted in Washington.

Originally Published on: Jan 14, 2024  

Image courtesy of UnSplash