Kolo, 18th St, Love
As a child, I always thought of Adams Morgan as “that place with the really good Ethiopian market that sells the best Kolo,” a favorite snack of mine.
In my late teens, it meant the prospect of deceiving The Rules and partaking in shenanigans typically reserved for the over 21.
Today, it means so much more. To me, Adams Morgan can be summed up by the 18th St strip. The colors, the lights, the sounds, the crowds, the scents; the late night inebriation; the endless options of food, music, and bars. The different cultures, languages, and people sprinkled about, presenting an adequate—albeit particular—picture of D.C diversity and flavor.
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The thrill of going out and looking your best, mingled with a sense of frustration at being noticed. But not always is it frustrating. I met my boyfriend at a bar in Adams Morgan. This is quite telling. An adventurous, fun, frivolous affair turned to grow into something consistent, exciting, and dear to me.
Maybe one day I will outgrow the frenzied energy. Maybe it will change into a tame area that attracts older crowds and families. But there is no doubt that Adams Morgan has shaped the experience of living in, and loving, my city.