The Choo Choo Train

For Easter weekend, I took Amtrak home.  I caught the train at Union Station at 7:30 PM and rode it all the way to my hometown Florence, South Carolina to arrive at 3:30 AM.  A train ride is a totally different experience from flying.  To begin with there are little pre-ride preparations unlike pre-flight preparations.  You don’t go through a metal detector, there is no cost for checking baggage, they don’t check IDs, and you can get on the train approximately 2 minutes before it’s “all aboard.”

When I settled into my seat, I was amazed at the roominess of it. In fact, it was so roomy that my seatmate decided to plop her stuffed purse on the area of my seat that my posterior was not occupying.  When you’ve been pushed around on flights as much as I have, you begin to become territorial about your area.  I’ve had larger than life men ask me to sit between them rather than in my window seat, because I was the smallest of us.  I’ve had some seatmates nudge me out of my paid seat, so they could have a seat and a half to themselves.   Now, I buck right back, and, in this situation, I put my posterior on her purse.  She said, “Oh my, is that in your way?”  I replied, “No, you can leave it there, but I’ll just have to sit on it. . .hardy har.”  I said it as pretty as you like, and then she moved it.  We got along fine the rest of the ride.

Oh my, what a cast of characters on that train!?  There was the lady who looked strung out on crystal meth with her 12 year old daughter in tow.  The meth mommy had a teardrop tattoo below the corner of her eye.  In the dining car, she was banging back the Budweisers and buying rounds for two, young guys.  It was apparent the daughter was the caretaker and mother of that duo.  Poor kid.  I hope the daughter gets a chance in this lottery of a life we all play.

Wowsa, and then, my most favorite. . . the lady sitting catty corner to me.  She was chatty with what had to be the most patient woman I’ve ever witnessed, because this lady in the catty corner was saying the craziest nothings.  Her shirt was the best thing ever, though.  I still double over in a fit of giggles over it.  It was a large, black tee shirt with two of the Seven Dwarves on it.  They were Grumpy and Dopey.  The shirt read, “I’m Grumpy, because You’re Dopey.”  Pretty good stuff, right?  I think the weirdest thing that came out of her mouth was the keeping place of her mother’s remains.  She said her mother was cremated and that the urn was at her sister’s house.  They keep the urn on the TV, so her mother can hear it, because she’d always been real hard of hearing. 

I then dozed off and arrived in Florence in the wee hours of the morning.

The return ride was much better.  It was during the day, so I could look out the window and enjoy the scenery.  It’s rural America, and it’s pretty in a worn-out, small town sort of way.  The little girl beside me was a hoot and a holler.  She was reading a Schwan’s catalog and was faintly whispering out loud what she was reading.  If you need to know, Schwan’s appetizers are on sale.  She seemed to want some of my Jelly Bellys.  She kept looking at them longingly, but I figured, with the whole never take candy from a stranger bit, that I shouldn’t offer.

I spent a lot of the return trip sitting at a booth in the dining car.  I turned it into a makeshift office, and did some work.  I can’t tell you how nice it is to be able to plug in your tech gadgets.  Too bad you can’t get wifi on the train.

All in all, I’d take the train again, but I’d take it during daylight, and I would not want to ride it further than Florence.



Easter Passes by Quick like a Bunny

I went home for Easter weekend, and it was a real treat.  I was glad to leave DC for a spell and see my folks.  My family spent Easter at my sister's house on James Island.  We took part in our Easter traditions--dyeing eggs (with Paas dye of course), making a bunny cake, exchanging Easter baskets, Easter lunch, and observing the meaning of the day's celebration.  The only things missing were new Easter Sunday dresses and Sam and Libby ballet flats from bygone years.  The day went by too quickly.  Fun days like that one always slip by so fast.

My sister and I have always dyed Easter eggs.  There are pictures of us when we were little dyeing eggs and here we are at 31 and 27 still doing it.

Me.

Kristen

The products of our labor.  They turned out much better than in years past.  We used lemon juice instead of vinegar to activate the dye tablets this go round.  That could be why.

The bunny cake.  Yum!  It's from a mix, Funfetti mix to be exact, but the icing is homemade, and I could eat a tub of it.  The icing job was mine, and I have to say I'm pretty pleased with my decorative skills.  Let me add, I did not feel bad cutting into this cutesy bunny after our meal.

What to do?

For those of you who've been to DC or lived here, please throw out some suggestions for my remaining weekend excursions.  There'll be three.  I can usually pack in two things in a weekend. . . one for Saturday and one for Sunday.

Right now my itinerary is the National Archives, Spy Museum, strolling about Georgetown, a Nationals baseball game, and the Arlington Cemetery.

Also, please tell me what I can or should miss.

Like the Miscellaneous Drawer in the Kitchen. . .

Like the miscellaneous drawer in the kitchen, I want to mention a few random things.  These random things have filled me with imaginable joy and awe while being here.

I'm coming up on my seventh week here.  I only have four more weeks left, and I'm already getting a little nostalgic for DC even with four weeks remaining.

I've loved running to the Capitol and around the national mall at dusk.  It's breath-taking to turn the corner and see the Capitol in all its majesty with the rotunda lit up and its grand entrance steps.  I just feel close to democracy and the true brain of all the policy intiatives of our country.

My run starts at the Capitol, and leads me to the national mall.  The national mall is always active.  There is a kickball league, and, if I was to permanently stay here, I'd be in the league.  People standby and cheer.  It's just happy.

Then, I run by all the Smithsonian museums.  If I push out my run, the halfway point is the Lincoln memorial.

Although our government is frustrating (more than most of the time e.g. the recent, discord over the federal budget), being here has given me a sense of national pride I have never felt before, which was unexpected. 

The think tanks are a favorite activity for me.  During the week, I go to about 3 think tank events around town.  My most favorite think tank is the Woodrow Wilson Center.  I attend all the Middle Eastern program events at the Woodrow Wilson Center, and have been able to chat people up as I see familiar faces who attend all the Middle Eastern events.  Some of the events have been Arab social media in Egypt, U.S./Pakistani economic relations, and Saudi Arabia's kingdom striking back against the surrounding revolutions in the region.

I love to go to the United States Institute of Peace too.  I can say that the building is phenomenal.  I like to say that if Steve Jobs decided to design an Apple building, it would look like U.S.I.P. with its glossy windows, skyscraper high ceilings, sloping steps, its assymetrical-ness, and its whiteness.  Topics of discussion have been the turmoil in Balochistan and what it means for Pakistan, and a real time discussion on what is happening on the ground in Yemen.

As I've gone to these events, I see the frustration, desperation, and upset that so many countries in Southeast Asia and the Middle East cope with daily.  I'm closer to it all when I go to these events, and the mood becomes palpable for me as people talk about the problems their countries are facing.  But, then again, at the same time, they are able to be upbeat and positive, which is uplifting.  Their resilience is inspiring.

Another favorite thing is just walking into the State Department for work.  I always enter through the Diplomats' Entrance.  The Diplomats' Entrance is the main entry, and there are alway protestors across the street with their loud chorus of voices making demands in unison.  There have been Iranian groups, Mexican groups, and others.

The Diplomats' Entrance is art deco and there is so much hustle and bustle.  You hear foreign languages being spoken, see people being whisked in and out, and then each country has a flag hung at the back wall.  It's unbelievable.  And then there are always those black Cadillac limos or shiny Mercedes coming in and out of the parking garage.  I always wonder who is riding in those.

I also like Friday evenings when I push and shove on and off the metro, and then arrive in Union Station where it slows down some, and I can get ice cream or eat at my favorite Indian restaurant in the food court or Chop't (a salad lover's delight) while deciding my weekend activity, and then wander about in the shops.

All in all, it's been remarkable, and I'm happy I got to have this opportunity.  There have been challenges along the way, but challenges keep your brain active, right?

Crumbs (none left if I'm eating there) Bake Shop

(Wow!  I'm carrying around a business card for a cupcake joint.  Sign me up for help, please.)

Crumbs is this delightful bake shop I've found.  They have locations in DC, Los Angeles, Illinois, Connecticut, New Jersey, New York, and Virginia, so it's not some little boutique bake shop tucked away.  It's a chain.  I'd never heard of crumbs, so, despite its spreading across to the East and West coasts, it still felt like a special find to me. 

I started to see people coming in and out of Union Station carrying these little boxes with jester stickers on them, and I thought I need one of those boxes with one of those fun stickers, and I need a belly full of empty calorie goodness.

Crumbs has just about any flavor you can dream up.  For Easter, they have peeps cupcakes.  There's a cosmo, carrot cake, red velvet, happy birthday, good guy (looks like a Hostess cupcake), Artie Lange, Baba Booey, blackout, strawberry, Irish creme, cookies and cream, and the list goes on and on.  I guess you can tell I took a long time making up my mind.  I ended up getting the happy birthday, and it did not disappointment.  The cake was yellow and there were sprinkles baked into the cake.  Get a load of this.

Now, I have an ode to my Crumbs cupcake and all the other cupcakes I've loved before.

Ode to Cupcakes

Corrogated wrapper

Be it foil or paper

Delights me with

Pavlovian desire

as I peel it off.

Be it yellow, white,

or chocolate,

Forever a mound of

Yumness

Capped with frostiness

just like a snowy mount.

My Love/Hate Relationship with Art and Other Things

Sunday, I went to the National Art Gallery.  It's massive.  It feels like being in a hall of mirrors.  One gallery leads you through halls with paintings to doors into another gallery with walls heavy with paintings.

Sometimes I can enjoy and appreciate art.  Other times, I feel like this, "art, schmart."  I'm no philistine, but art museums, particularly post modern art museums (e.g. The Pompidou Museum in Paris or what I crudely prefer to call Le Poopy Doo), puzzle me to no end. I can't even laugh at the absurdity of an installation that is basically paper trash spray painted neon green.  I just get kind of mad and want to tell the artist, "You're not fooling me, buddy."

The National Art Gallery has little in the way of post modernism art.  Thank, goodness!  But, my eyes do get a little glazed after seeing the same portrait of similar looking ladies or babies.

I have picture examples of what I do like and dislike.

This is an example of a portrait that puts a little terror in me.  Look at those dead, cold, black seeds for eyes in that doughy, rectangular face.  What's lovely about that?  Just gives me the icks.  And I'm not one to say, "Oh, I can appreciate this because it icks me a little."

See,  I do like paintings that tell a story.  This is the "Jolly Flatboatsman," and he's dancing a little jig.  I like it.  There's something behind that dance.

Look at that devil-may-care, rakish face.  You know his intentions aren't pure!  That is much more entertaining that the dead eyes baby.

Then, we have our 14th century Spanish paintings that celebrate the Madonna and Jesus.  I usually get excited about these at first.  But my excitement fades as they all start to look the same--a bunch of gilded frames.

Overall, I had a nice time just wandering around the building.  It's giant and all marble and granite with halls that you know would echo forever if you screamed.  I needed to get out and get some fresh air and some culture, so it fit the bill.



The Ole Mail Route from 1618 to Today

Entrance to the National Postal Museum.

I went to United States Postal Museum today.  It is a branch of the Smithsonian museums.  It's right beside Union Station making it convenient for me.  Today was a rainy day.  I'm talking cats and dogs, so it was a strategic choice in that I wouldn't get drenched on my way there.

It was absolutely entertaining.  Dare I say it may be my most favorite museum in DC.  See, I know very little about USPS, but now I know a lot.

Many of you know how much I love to mail postcards and notes.  I have a penchant for paper goods.  Every Christmas I ask Santa for an original and unique paper good be it a planner, notecards, postcards, pad of paper, etc.  I have a whole arsenal of paper goods.  Mail is special to me.  I love to get it as much as I love to send it, so it seemed only appropriate that I visit this museum.

I have lots of pictures to share with you that I'll detail as I post.

First I think I'll begin with the transportation.  The transportation was the first exhibit you encounter upon entry.

Of course, the mail first began on foot, but then travel by wagon began.  Here you have a wagon.  There would be about four horses pulling the mail.

In Alaska, the best way to deliver the mail was by dogsled.  There would be malamutes or huskies pulling the mailman and the mail over the tough terrain and through the inclement weather.  Cross country skis were often used, too.

Later came trains, the exhibit was funded by Norfolk Southern Railroad.  Inside there are boxes and cubbies for mail as well as an organizational system.  Train made it much easier to collect mail across the United States to take it to be distributed.  A useful contraption was the "mail on the fly" sack.

Mailmen collecting in a town or neighborhood would put the mail in this sack for the coming trains, and the train mailmen would operate this contraption from the train with pulleys or levers, and the mail would drop into a hole in the ceiling of the train as the train passed under it.  Then, they would put it in the cubbies as collected.  This is called "Mail on the Fly."

And then you have your air mail.

Model T's were the first cars used to deliver the mail.  Motorcycles were used before the Model T.

Then, came the LLV (Long Life Vehicle) that we know and look for when expecting something in the mail.  They came about in 1986.  Before they were approved for mail transit they were put through grueling and rigorous road tests.  These puppies had to drive over cobblestones, through tens of thousands of potholes, over dirt roads, and were left running for long stretches of time.  I'm talking about twenty hours.  Eventually they were proven fit and Grumman was given the contract to manufacture them for USPS.

Now, I'll move to the postal history.

What do you do in 1673 when you need to mail a letter?  Read below

Here are maps of US mail coverage through the years.  Please know that the 13 colonies had mail service almost as soon as the colonies had the administrative capacity to deliver mail as noted in the previous caption.

Mail service spreads beyond the 13 colonies (aqua region is the new mail delivery territory).

Mail coverage grows with the Louisiana Purchase.

Mail coverage grows with the acquisition of Texas after war.

Now on to mail during wartimes.

V-mail or Victory mail is fascinating.  I'll let the museum's website tell you about it.

V, or Victory mail, was a valuable tool for the military during World War II. The process, which originated in England, was the microfilming of specially designed letter sheets. Instead of using valuable cargo space to ship whole letters overseas, microfilmed copies were sent in their stead and then "blown up" at an overseas destination before being delivered to military personnel.

V-mail ensured that thousands of tons of shipping space could be reserved for war materials. The 37 mail bags required to carry 150,000 one-page letters could be replaced by a single mail sack. The weight of that same amount of mail was reduced dramatically from 2,575 pounds to a mere 45. The blue-striped cardboard containers held V-mail letter forms.

The system of microfilming letters was based on the use of special V-mail letter-sheets, which were a combination of letter and envelope. The letter-sheets were constructed and gummed so as to fold into a uniform and distinctively marked envelope. The user wrote the message in the limited space provided, added the name and address of the recipient, folded the form, affixed postage, if necessary, and mailed the letter. V-mail correspondence was then reduced to thumb-nail size on microfilm. The rolls of film were sent to prescribed destinations for developing at a receiving station near the addressee. Finally, individual facsimiles of the letter-sheets were reproduced about one-quarter the original size and the miniature mail was then delivered to the addressee.

The first large Army operated V-mail station overseas was opened on April 15, 1943 at Casablanca, North Africa. Hastily set up in a field following the Allied invasion of North Africa, this makeshift station continued to operate until September 15, 1943. Between June 15, 1942 and April 1, 1945, 556,513,795 pieces of V-mail were sent from the U.S. to military post offices and over 510 million pieces were received from military personnel abroad. In spite of the patriotic draw of V-mail, most people still sent regular first class mail. In 1944, for instance, Navy personnel received 38 million pieces of V-mail, but over 272 million pieces of regular first class mail.

Poster promoting V-mail.

I end with one of the most heartwarming stories I've heard in a while.  It's all about Owney, USPS's mascot.  Owney stole my heart and some of my money when I went into the gift shop.  Bad Owney!

Oh, Owney, Owney.  I'll let the museum tell you about him, but I do want to add a precious detail that is left out.  If a mailbag fell off the train, Owney would jump off the moving train and lay on the mailbag until it was retrieved by a mailman.  He was the "safekeeper" of the mail.

Owney, posed here with a letter carrier, was a stray mutt who wandered into the Albany, New York, post office in 1888. The clerks let him stay, and he fell asleep on some mailbags. Owney was attracted to the texture or scent of the mailbags and followed them when they were placed on a Railway Mail Service train. Owney began to ride with the bags on trains across the state—and then the country. In 1895 Owney made an around-the-world trip, traveling with mailbags on trains and steamships to Asia and across Europe, before returning to Albany.

Thompson Markward Hall Photos

Here are some pictures of Thompson Markward Hall (it's like living in an adult women's dorm, basically). . . .

This is the door leading into the dining hall.

Dining Hall.

Commons area, sitting room.

Library.  The Washington Post is usually on the table in the mornings and year old magazines.

My favorite chair in the library, and a favorite room, because no one is in there.  The shelves are stocked with books that you can borrow.  I got a Stephen King novel, Lisey's Story, off the shelf.  I've never read a Stephen King novel.  I thought, well, I'll give it a try.  I needed something to quiet my mind in the evening.  Well, it didn't quiet my mind.  It was so good that I just flew through it.

Whoopee!  Laundry room, and this is exciting for someone who lugs about 50 - 60 lbs of clothes to the neighborhood laundromat.



Piano and sitting room.



Eleanor Roosevelt celebrating the 50th anniversary of Thompson-Markward Hall.  It was founded in 1887. Since then wings have been added and indoor plumbing.

Glad It Was Free

Some of you won't give a hoot about this post.  It's just a warning.

I went to Daughters of the American Revolution (D.A.R.) museum over the weekend.  It's one of the less visited museums.  I know why.  I was unimpressed and disappointed.  It's right beside the White House on 17th Street and Connecticut Avenue.  The building was built in 1911 and has had several additions added to it through the years.

In the D.A.R. museum, each state has a room depicting some decade of bygones past that they sponsor.  The rooms are not representative of the state with the exception of three that I saw--Maryland, South Carolina, and Texas.  Basically, when the D.A.R. museum has something go wrong with one of the rooms, they contact the D.A.R. branch in that state requesting them to raise funds or lobby their state for government funding for repairs or whatnots.

I have to say the link between the museum and the American Revolution was a stretch.  There truly wasn't much in the way of women's role in the American Revolution or any object relative to the the American Revolution under the museum's roof with the exception of a chair that was a replica of one owned by George Washington.  There were just a bunch of rooms with antiques in them.

I went on a docent led tour.  It was just me and the docent giving the tour.  Awkward! 

Here are some pictures that are worth sharing for a couple of reasons.

This is a picture of the South Carolina room.  The bed is a canopy, rice bed.  So many southerners own rice beds.  The paint is an ochre shade that was popular during the time.  It was made to match the color of sand on the shores.

This room is from around the 1840s.  It was a woman's parlor room.  She would invite her close friends into this room to socialize.  If you can make out the colors of the room, you'll see that they are green and red.  The curtains, rugs, bed decorations are all red and green.  I was told that red and green were the trendy colors around this time, and if you did not have red and green in your home, you were not fashionable.

This is the New Jersey room.  The interesting detail about this room is that the wood paneling was saved from the wreckage of a British ship that was sunk by a bomb during the Revolutionary War.  So, there you have a link to the war.

This room is sponsored by Maryland.  The detail to notice is the wheeled furniture.  There are wheels on everything in this room but the hutch in the far right corner.  Since there was no electric light, furniture needed to be easy to push around to get into the light to sew, play cards, or read.

Fun fact:  The phrase "straighten your room" came from wheely furniture during this time period.  You would need to push all the furniture flush against the wall creating straight lines in order to tidy for company.

I wanted to juxtapose this picture against the one I just posted.  Notice how in this picture the furniture is heavier and is not on wheels.  This had everything to do with that lamp on the table.  Pretend the chandelier isn't there, because it is not appropriate to the era.  The docent said it was just put there for ornamental reasons.  The lamp you see could cast light all over a room making wheels unnecessary. I think the lamp was an oil lamp.

Look at the wires hanging the painting.  The molding was made to be able to hang pictures on wires and move them from place to place on the wall.  This is circa 1830.

This is the Texas room depicting a bedroom in Texas around 1840.  You'll notice red and green, again, like the other room.  There was a influx of German immigrants who sailed from Germany to New Orleans, and then traveled to Texas.  The bureau is representative of a piece of furniture with a Germanic influence.

I wouldn't recommend this museum to anyone visiting DC for only a short trip, but I'm glad I went just for the sake of going to one of the smaller museums.

Death Does Not Become Them

When I went to see the Hope Diamond, I was attracted to another exhibit displaying the forsenic files of 17th century Chesapeake Bay.

The blurb on the museum's website reads:

"Human anatomy and forensic investigation provide intriguing information on people and events of America's past. This exhibition will examine history through 17th-century bone biographies, including those of colonists teetering on the edge of survival at Jamestown, Virginia, and those of wealthy and well-established individuals of St. Mary’s City, Maryland. At no other time in our history have we had the technological capability or opportunity that are now available to help us tell this tale."

It was absolutely fascinating.

Here are some pictures I'd like to share with you and detail a bit with my own spin.

Pipe smoking was a habit that all the colonists shared in.  The pipes were made of clay.  Imagine yourself with your teeth clamped around the edge of a plant's orange clay pot.  It was very tough on their teeth.  After years of gripping a clay pipe with your teeth, the wear would show.  Teeth would break down and become chipped and decay.  They'd turn yellow and brown, too, as pipes rarely left the mouths of most colonists.  It was one of the only pleasures they had in those rough times.  Women, men, young, old, all smoked from pipes.  Enclosed in a case were mounds and mounds of entire pipes or fragments of pipes that were unearthed at an archaelogical site.

Dental hygiene was a major issue.  Colonists would experience abcesses, tooth decay, tooth loss, jaw disorders.  You name it, they had it, and there was little relief from the pain.  Some abcesses could cause death.  And, if you were one of those few who knew that dental hygiene was critical to keeping tooth pain away, the material you were likely cleaning your teeth with was an abrasive.  These good intentions did not prevent tooth problems.  The abrasive cleaners used led to lose of tooth enamel and brittle teeth.  Eventually, the teeth would become former shadows of what was once a tooth.

The rich were not insulated from death even with all their little niceties.  The upper class enjoyed their porcelain, painted dishes, and pewter diningware all of which contained extraordinary amounts of lead.  Though they might feel ill, they could not pinpoint the origin.  After testing some skeletons that were identified as being gentry, lead tests were conducted.  Three times the amount of lead that is safe for a human being to have in his or her body was found in one man.  It was recorded that up to his death he complained of symptoms that are indicative of lead poisoning.

Were you to get a broken bone, your bone would likely just have to heal itself.  Back-breaking work did just that.  It broke your back.  Spines would become curved and contorted into shapes you wouldn't think possible.  I  saw one with my own eyes that was S-shaped.

Now, I bring you to a George Jetson bone.  It's the bionic man.  Look closely to the left and you'll see the shiny, metal ball.  This picture is of a hip replacement.  And the bottom bone is reinforced with steel pins and a shaft.  I have no clue what kind of replacement this is.  Oh, how the times have changed!

Hippity Hoppity



To spread some spring and Easter cheer, I wanted to post a picture of Sheena's two bunnies.  She has a veritable zoo with dogs, bunnies, and a gecko.

The blackish bunny is Cornelius.  He's a long-eared bunny.  The gray bunny is Ella, and she's an Angora bunny.  Remember if you buy Angora, you're buying Ella.  I don't want to get political, but buying fur is mean.  

Oh, Marie, Oh, Marie

Some of you know my little belief that we have past lives.  Sure, it's make believe (unless you are Hindu).  But, we all need make believe.

Brad had to have been a sailor because he is the best swimmer, like a fish, and he loves the ocean.

Me, however, I like to get specific with who I was.

I started out as Cleopatra.  I joined forces with Rome through landing Marc Anthony and having Julius Casear's child probably had something to do with my ties to Rome.  I fought wars, killed my brother, oh, what a mighty, mighty little lady was.

Then, I was royalty once again.  Marie Antoinette with my little pug (Mops), feathers galore, and three feet high bouffants.  Unfortumately, the French Revolution brought me to my knees only to have my head chopped off.  Bah!  But, oh the jewelry that adorned that head.  I was reuntied today with one of my most treasured pieces of jewelry, a pair of diamond earrings given to me by Louis.  Take a look.

Then, I was the Purple Rose.  She had a rather bloody death, too, in the 20s in America.  We need not visit her sad but roaring life.

I Hope for Hope around My Neck

I went to the National History Museum earlier today to get a gander at the Hope Diamond that's on display for a limited time.  I thought the museum would have little foot traffic with the Cherry Blossom Parade being held today.  I did get caught in the wave of the crowd at the parade, though.  Luckily, I drifted right to the steps of the museum.  I had a purpose for going there that went beyond oogling the Hope Diamond.  Ever since Elizabeth Taylor died, I can't seem to get my mind off of her bounty of gems, and this got me wanting to look at sparkly things.  This is my favorite picture of her using her jewelery as a prop.  Oh, how that face could launch a thousand more ships than Helen of Troy?!

The Hope Diamond is encase in a glass box that rotates making it very easy to see as well as get close.  It is a blue diamond that is around 42 carats.  It is set in diamond baguettes.  Dare I say the diamond is relatively small.  I, like others I assume, was a little disappointed in the size thinking it would be the size of my head.  But it's absolutely pure beauty.  With that said, see the beauty for yourself.

The Hope Diamond has several varieties of settings, but it's always a necklace.  The necklace just takes different shape and structure at Harry Winston's whim I presume.  Here are past lives that have been breated into the Hope Diamond.