I’ve never much understood the quick hit, city-to-city-to-city method of travel. In a couple of days you can only get the barest scrape of a surface, if that. Paris, at its best, is an old, vibrant town, where ‘every street, every boulevard, is its own special art form’, as Woody Allan put it.

Yet, spend only a few days there, among the crowds, expensive tourist restaurants, street sellers and cons, it can just as easily seem like Disneyland for adults.

New York, is much the same. On first glance it might appear filthy, chaotic, deformed. Too overwhelming to take in.

When I arrived in DC, my first view was of a cold and empty place. Memories of those first few weeks are caked in a grey, jet-lagged fog. But when winter breaks, it does so almost instantaneously. A green, balmy city pops up by mid March, a technicolor wash. And I started to see the different characters of DuPont and Georgetown, of Adams Morgan and Shaw. If your focus is the monuments and the Capitol, you’ll probably miss the African restaurants, the books shops, the parks and creeks, the happy hours and brunches.

At the same time, as you get a feel for the details, you get a better sense of the differences from your home town. It’s inevitable to compare, impossible not to. There are just some things about my home, Melbourne, Australia that just can’t be replicated in DC.

For one, much as Washington might aspire to a fertile café culture, there are few, if any cities in the world that can compete with Melbourne. Back home, there is fantastic coffee, literally everywhere. In alleys and laneways, parks and boulevards, almost every nook and cranny of the city is jammed with the smell of fresh beans and tattooed baristas. This obsession stretches to the suburban main streets, even to country towns surrounding the city. And the cafes are rarely ‘coffee shops’ that do coffee and maybe a bagel if you’re lucky, like you’ll find often here in the states. There’s nothing like rolling out of bed on a Saturday morning for a flat white and a plate of poached eggs on avocado toast (and don’t get me started on American bread).

And on the subject of purchasing food, is there a country with a more convoluted system of paying for meals and drinks than this one? Sometimes sorting the bill takes longer than meal itself. Seriously America, it’s pretty simple, include the tax in the listed price and get some decent minimum wage laws so we don’t have to worry about this tipping business. And while I’m at it, I’ll never miss an opportunity to talk up the many virtues of plastic currency.

Washington has a good sporting year, with Capitals and Wizards having great seasons, and the Nationals putting together a solid first part of the baseball seasons. Yet, as a city of expats, there is certain lack of passion for the DC sporting teams. The same cannot be said of Melbourne. Outsiders may not know it, but Melbourne is actually something of a sporting Mecca. Not only do we have nine Australian rules football teams, which sometimes attract attendances of over 90,000 people, we also have host a swathe of internationally renowned events. The Australian Open is one of only four tennis Grand Slam tournaments. The Melbourne Cup is a horse race so large that it has its own public holiday and attracts entrants from all across world. The Rip Curl Pro at Bells Beach is one of world’s most famous surfing events. The Boxing Day Cricket test can attract up more than 250,000 people over five days. We even have a Formula One Grand Prix.

Most starkly for, I feel like Melbourne is a diverse but also well integrated city. There are few of the racial and social disparities that might shock visitors to Washington. Homelessness, while still a problem in Melbourme, occurs at nothing like the scale you find here. Nor is there the stark racial division between those working in office jobs and in the service sector. I don’t think I’ll ever get over being in a shop or restaurant where essentially all customers are white, while all employees are black.

Finally, and as stereotypically Australian as this might be, I really miss the beach. Imagine how nice it would be if you could cool off on one of those muggy DC afternoons with a quick trip down to the beach?

Having said all of this, Washington DC has some incredibly attractive aspects. For one, it is a truly international city. There are people living and working here from all corners. It gives the city a flavour that you would be unlikely to find in other parts of the U.S. or even many parts of the world.

Not only are they far flung, they often come to work in think tanks, universities or embassies. This is a smart city, and one that is passionate about ideas. It isn’t a closed circle either. It’s incredibly easy to roll into a talk at Brookings or Heritage, to drop into a Congressman’s office or to visit an embassy.

One potentially underrated aspect of DC is the depth of its cultural. Tucked up among the vast federal departments are countless museums and galleries, many of which are free. Whatever your fancy, these institutions offer unparalleled views into the worlds of history, art and science.

And yet, Washington retains a comfortable, almost small town feel, especially compared to larger cities in the states. It is easily walkable, the height restriction on downtown buildings removes the glassy claustrophobia that tends to encase larger cities.

Europeans might disagree, but a valuable aspect for me, is the ease of travel to other cities from. Unless you fly, it is simply not possible to head up to Sydney or Adelaide for the weekend from Melbourne, unless you want to spend 20 hours of it in a car. Don’t even talk to me about trying to get anywhere interesting on a bus from Canberra.

From DC it’s incredibly easy to head up to New York, Philadelphia or Baltimore, not to mention many of the other interesting places in Virginia or Maryland. The key sites of America’s founding, and its Civil War, are often only a short trip away.

Finally, Washington is now a very active and youthful city. Not only are there thousands of young staffers on the hill, in the public sector and a constant flow of interns, there are nineteen universities or colleges in the district. From all reports DC is now fitter, younger and more exciting than it has ever been.

It’s not home, but it sure has been a nice place to spend some time.

“You don’t become a runner by winning a morning workout. The only true way is to marshal the ferocity of your ambition over the course of many day, weeks, months, and (if you could finally come to accept it) years. The Trial of Miles; Miles of Trials.”

― John L. Parker Jr., Once a Runner

There are few sports as egalitarian as running. The cost of access is negligible. The price of success is your own effort and discipline. The facilities are everywhere. We all have our own goals, our own reasons for running. And yet, we are united, as noted in the cult classic novel Once a Runner, by the ‘trial of miles’. There is, literally, no other way. You might be training for a marathon, like I am aiming for Berlin in September. You might a novice, looking to lose a little weight and get back in some shape. You might want to run a fast 5km, or a slow 10. There is only the miles of trials and the trials of miles.

And yet, we must admit that some places are better habitats for runners than others. Washington D.C., as the winter rolls over into spring, is a joyful place to grind out miles.  Winter running, especially in the north east of the United States, is hard work. The most determined of us, those who actually do make it outside amongst the sleet and snow, are wrapped in all kinds of strange gear. Face masks, gloves, beanies, leggings, jackets, compression tops. But the only other option is spending hours a week on the monotonous ‘dreadmill’. Sometimes 30 minutes meticulously rugging up for a 45 minute run seems worth it. As you might imagine, after a few months of hellish winter, spring is really something else.

Right now, the cherry blossoms are out in force down at the Mall and the Tidal Basin. A nice route is to scoot down by the Potomac, past the Kennedy Centre and then along the Mall down to the Jefferson Memorial. Weekends are getting busy, however, so this is probably best attempted on a nice weekday morning. Even for non-morning people like myself, the early quiet of an area normally teeming with people is well worth it. For variation, you can cross the river a little earlier and head up the gates of the National Cemetery at Arlington. Or, you could do repeat laps of the ellipse behind the White House, or laps of the Reflecting Pool. There is almost no end to the places that you can both run and feel you’re in an episode of The West Wing.

At the same time, I mostly prefer to feel like I’m getting out DC a little. Stroll a few miles down by Rock Creek, and you’ll have forgotten the city (and maybe your troubles) completely. A favourite route of mine is to cross the bridge at P Street and 23^rd and head down to the creek via the steps on the left. Take a left and head along the creek. The trail goes for many, many miles, but I like to go just past the zoo and turn back for around a 6 mile run. The good thing about this run is that you can make it as short or long as you like, depending on how you feel.

The same goes if you take a right instead, and run next to the motorway. After about half a mile, you turn off to the right and head down along the boardwalk in front of the Swedish Embassy. After about another half mile, you’ll reach the start of the C & O Canal Path. This is a beautiful track to run on – it tracks the Potomac for a couple of miles and then heads off up into Montgomery Country, Maryland, all the while surrounded by lush trees and grass.

If you fancy a workout with a little more speed, nothing beats a proper track session. The closest track to ISH is in Georgetown at R and 38^th St. The track is only 320m, rather than regular 400m, and can get a little busy. However, with relative lack of public tracks in the District, this is a pretty decent option.

Really, it is little wonder that Washington DC has been ranked the fittest major city in the United States. So what are you waiting for? Get out in the sun and do some miles.

‘How was your day?’

A question asked around the world, every evening. The adult equivalent of ‘how was school?’ In my experience, at least, the answer is invariably an unconcerned grunt or a ‘yeah, not bad’, that really means ‘please, dear God can we talk about something else?’

Yet, at ISH-DC, ‘how was your day?’ can be a spectacular question.

Imagine it, if you haven’t had the pleasure.  In a house together, dozens and dozens of vital, young things.  The best minds of your generation, riven with spirit, ambition, intellect.  Unmoored from families, homes, countries.  Relieved from the mundane, the everyday. Curious and keen. Once in a lifetime chances.

‘How was your day?’ is a spectacular question.

Today might have been conference on the Ukraine.  Or a basketball game.  Political strife back home.  A good day in the lab.  At the dinner table we’ll talk about Putin rumours and Finnish defence strategy. We’ll be perplexed by March Madness or talk corruption and protest.  We’ll listen, and try valiantly to understand organic chemistry.

Today might have been a busy day on the Hill, fielding phone calls from angry constituents. Today might have a sneaking out of work for trip to a museum, or memorials King, Roosevelt and Jefferson. So at dinner we’ll talk rural crazies and natural history. Surely, we’ll agree to take Madison over Hamilton.

Too, this is a house of dedicated comparativists.  It is unavoidable really.  At any given couch or table you might have Europeans and Africans, scientists and policymakers, sportspeople and musicians.  We relate to each through our own memories and experiences.  You go out for an evening as we are getting home. You pay tips, we pay wages.  You call it soccer, we call it football.

But this is something more empathetic, warmer about these conversations than mere identification of difference.  The fact of our diversity tends to bring us closer together.  Sometimes this happens in surprising ways.  I’m a political scientist – I know better than most the fractures that run across this town.  And we certainly have the ingredients for fireworks here.  Political persuasions run the full gamut at ISH-DC, from Central American socialists to dedicated conservatives, wide-eyed internationalists to staunch, defence-hawk realists.  And yet, discussions are not merely respectful, like some kind of feigned bipartisanship.  There is an authenticity of interest, born of friendship and curiosity.  All it takes is to ask and then to listen.

In a mere few weeks around the dinner table at ISH-DC, I’ve often been dazzled by the breadth of discussion.  I’ve learned that sharks aren’t really the predatory threat some might believe – in fact it’s the sharks that should be afraid of us.  I’ve examined at length the various electoral systems of our various home nations (and thus had to, with great difficulty, explain how Australia ended up with a Senator from the Motoring Enthusiasts Party).

I’ve learnt how to drive in Honduras (windows up. Always windows up).  That if ISH-DC was Hogwarts (and we like to dream that it is), I’d probably be in either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.  I’ve learnt to not mention the World Cup, let alone the War.  I hear the Dutch are very tall, while Finland is home to Santa Claus.  Every night, it seems there is something more.

So if you find yourself around the dinner table at ISH, please, join us for an evening’s conversation.

How was your day?