When one of my closest friends from home texted me that she was flying into D.C. for the weekend, I did what any Hopkins student does when California meets Baltimore. I started planning her food itinerary before anything else.
She landed in D.C. Saturday evening and made her way up to Baltimore that night, suitcase in hand and clearly exhausted from the flight. When she finally arrived at my apartment, we were both excited for the day ahead. We headed straight to Kong Pocha, one of my go-to comfort spots near campus.
She ordered the kimchi fried rice. I went for the curry chicken omurice, glossy and golden, the kind of dish that feels like a warm blanket after a long day. We sat there catching up on everything we had missed. Classes, roommates, old memories from home. We had the kind of conversation that makes time slip away without you noticing. It was the perfect way to kick off her 24 hours in Baltimore: full stomachs, loud laughter and a table scattered with shared bites. We had made an ambitious plan to wake up early the next morning.
That plan lasted until about 9 a.m.
Like most of my mornings, I stayed glued to my pillow far longer than intended. My friend, still running on California energy and pure motivation, finally dragged me out of bed with one reminder that worked instantly.
Crab dip bagels.
We hurried out the door and walked to La Maison by Cafe Dear Leon, hoping we had made it in time before their most popular items sold out. If there is one piece of advice I would give anyone planning a Baltimore morning, it is this: check their bake schedule before you go.
Inside, the pastry case felt almost overwhelming in the best way. Rows of glossy pastries lined the shelves like tiny works of art. We chose a pistachio raspberry pastry, a passionfruit coconut pastry, a crème brûlée pastry and, of course, the crab dip bagel. Warm, rich and unapologetically indulgent, it tasted exactly like something worth waking up for.
With pastries in hand and coffee finally working its magic, we spent the rest of the morning walking through campus.
Spring had fully arrived, and campus looked like it knew it. Cherry blossoms stretched over walkways, students sprawled across the grass and sunlight made everything feel slower and easier. My friend immediately started taking pictures, snapping photos with cherry blossoms and Hopkins signs that would later flood her camera roll.
Even with just 24 hours, a campus walk feels essential. It shows off a quieter side of the city that you do not always see from the outside.
By midday, we had bigger plans: cherry blossoms in D.C.
We shuttled to Penn Station and boarded the MARC train, one of the best transportation deals for students. For about nine dollars, you can get from Baltimore to Washington, D.C. in under an hour. The train was packed far beyond what either of us expected, people standing shoulder to shoulder as we balanced bags and held onto rails.
Once we arrived, we met up with another friend from home who was spending the semester in D.C. We leaned into the tourist experience. The Lincoln Memorial. The White House. Museums and long walks between monuments that made us realize just how much ground D.C. covers. Everywhere we looked, cherry blossoms framed the city in soft pink and white.
By the afternoon, our energy started to fade, and we ducked into Teaism, a tea house that felt like a quiet reset. Sitting there with warm drinks in our hands, we slowed down for the first time all day, talking about school, home and how crazy it was to be at the same place at the same time after so long.
Eventually, the sun began to dip, and it was time to head back.
The MARC ride back to Baltimore was just as crowded, but by then exhaustion had settled in. When we stepped off at Penn Station, we thought the hardest part of the day was over.
It was not.
What followed was the familiar Hopkins shuttle struggle. We waited. Checked the app. Waited again. Watched buses appear and disappear in ways that made absolutely no sense. At some point, we started laughing because the situation felt too ridiculous to take seriously.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, we made it back to my apartment.
At that point, neither of us had the energy to cook or debate dinner options. We grabbed Honeygrow, a quick and reliable meal that always comes through when time is short and hunger is loud. Sitting on my couch with takeout containers balanced on our laps, we replayed the day, still slightly amazed at how much we had managed to fit into one weekend.
Soon enough, it was time for goodbyes.
Looking back, there are still things I wish we had squeezed into those 24 hours. I would have taken her to Ekiben if I had remembered that it is closed on Sundays. I would have brought her to Hampden for ice cream at The Charmery and spent an afternoon wandering through the Baltimore Museum of Art.
But even without those stops, the weekend felt complete.
If you only have 24 hours in Baltimore, the secret is not trying to do everything. Pick a few good meals. Walk as much as possible. Leave room for crowded trains and missed buses. Those small inconveniences often become the moments you laugh about later.
Because in the end, the best way to spend a day in Baltimore is sharing crab dip bagels on a sunny morning, getting lost in the rhythm of the city and spending time with someone who reminds you of home.
