Moynihan Train Hall.
It was the starting point of my short trip outside of NYC — a day trip to Washington, DC.

The station was beautiful and open, filled with morning light streaming through its glass ceiling.
It felt like the perfect gateway for a new adventure.
But honestly… I was nervous, too.

Compared to Japan, the signs and guidance felt minimal.
I couldn’t help but wonder — “Am I really going to board the right train?”
That mix of excitement and slight anxiety made this moment even more special.

Standing there, I realized that every journey starts like this.
A little uncertainty, a little thrill…
And that’s what makes traveling so unforgettable.

Blue Bottle Coffee.

In Japan, it’s known as a stylish, trendy spot —
but here in NYC, Blue Bottle felt surprisingly casual and everywhere.
It was comforting to see something familiar in a foreign city.

Ordering was a little nerve-wracking, though.
I had to give them my name, and as I waited, I couldn’t help but feel a little excited and nervous,
wondering when they’d call it out.

When my name was finally called, it felt oddly personal and heartwarming.
Just a single cup of coffee, but it gave me a sense of ease.
That simple warmth stayed with me, and made my train ride so much more relaxing.

In that moment, surrounded by strangers in a foreign land,
this small cup of coffee became my quiet companion.

After a 3.5-hour train ride, I finally arrived in the capital.
As soon as I stepped into Union Station, I felt the weight of history in the air.
This wasn’t just a train station — it felt like stepping into a grand hall from another era.
The graceful arches, tall pillars, and statues silently watching over travelers… everything carried a quiet dignity.

Later, I learned that those statues weren’t just decorations.
They are called The Progress of Railroading, symbolizing concepts like imagination, agriculture, and engineering — all things that made modern railroads and cities possible.
Knowing that, the space felt even more alive.
It wasn’t only beautiful — it was meaningful, too.

In Japan, public spaces like train stations tend to focus on functionality and efficiency.
But here, Union Station felt different.
It seemed to celebrate not only the practical role of transportation, but also the identity and pride of the people connected to it.
Like Grand Central in NYC, this station also seemed to hold a deeper spirit — not just about getting somewhere, but about honoring the past and connecting generations.

Walking around Washington, D.C., I found myself surrounded by symbols that felt much larger than life.

The Lincoln Memorial, standing with quiet dignity, reminded me of the values of equality and unity.
The Washington Monument, soaring into the sky, felt like a beacon of national pride and aspiration.
The U.S. Capitol, with its stately dome, stood as the heart of democracy.
The White House, ever so iconic, symbolized leadership and decision-making at the highest level.
And quietly, in the distance, the Jefferson Memorial added yet another layer of historical depth.

Seeing them all connected — not just visually, but emotionally — made me feel like I was tracing the story of America itself with my own footsteps.

In Japan, urban planning rarely speaks this directly to history and national identity.
Walking through D.C., I felt the weight of deliberate design — a city built not only for living, but for remembering and inspiring.

It wasn’t just sightseeing.
It was a journey through ideas, ideals, and the power of spaces to convey them.
Every step I took felt like turning a page in a living history book.

Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum.
This place was simply amazing — a journey through humanity’s boundless dreams and relentless pursuit of the skies and beyond.

From early aviation engines to spacecraft that crossed into the solar system, each exhibit vividly told the story of how technology evolved. I could feel the energy of the pioneers who pushed boundaries, driven by curiosity and courage.

Standing in front of real artifacts like the Gemini VII capsule and the Apollo footprint, I found myself imagining what it must have been like to be part of that great adventure. These weren’t just objects from history — they were proof that human beings never stop challenging themselves.

As I walked through the exhibits, I couldn’t help but connect it to my own life. Just like those who dared to go further, I want to keep challenging myself too. Even if my challenges are much smaller, they are still my way of contributing to humanity’s ongoing story.

Feeling inspired and energized, I left the museum with a renewed determination to keep moving forward, step by step, just like the explorers before me.