Potomac Jazz

After than heart-stopping soul food brunch, the perfect welcome to Washington DC was some freshly washed greens. I rolled up to my cousin Jeni's place and was greeted by my aunt. It was so good to kick back and catch up with my little cousins after 10 hours driving on the road. They had meanwhile spent years drifting around the world after leaving South Africa, with no true home to go to. After a decade of efforts, DC had finally welcomed them, green cards and all.

We took advantage of the multicultural metropolis by taking a nature walk on Roosevelt Island, just a horn's honk away from the capital. Dreamy boardwalks twisted between yellow irises and drifting butterflies. e walked down a dreamy boardwalk as we approached the tribute to the conservationist president. Next we visited a tropical greenhouse, free of charge, and later the holocaust museum. On the banks of the Potomac, with kayakers rowing from under the bridge to Georgetown, I felt the collision and gathering of people and nature, both struggling and cooperating at once.

In Baltimore, a dear friend Helen was attending a Jewish farming conference and I was stoked to see both her and the fields in bloom. The road kept winding North, and it was just my luck that a fellow nature lover Adam had shacked up in rural Pennsylvania and was in need of a Toyota Camry to really keep his bluesy toes swinging at Philly get togethers. I swung into Avondale to check out his gorgeous water research station and enjoyed a late evening of fresh blueberies, homemade pickles, freshly baked pizza and latenight banjoed jams. The last time I was in New York I was a wee bleary-eyed 7, so I couldn't pass up a crisp bite of the Big Apple. Adam bought the Camry and I boarded a megabus, which fired me North again and soon I was in the subway, riding next to my dear ginger amiga Ionie. Since I'd last seen her, this fiery MexiJew had managed to tear into the New York music scene and was filming a music video...Hot October. Damn girl! I loved the vibes, and we met lots of chill New Yorkers as we shopped for props like records and lingerie. 

After my dose of Manhattan I buzzed off, snare drum in hand, for some city nature time. I ended up at a park in Chinatown where, beating on ny drum, I made friends with some chinese kids and played tag with them. All that running and I was sweating, so I went for a swim at Brighton Beach, where a Russian couple was having a proper fight, spitting and hitting and everything. Almost got some flem on me but, some salty seawater to float in and I was right as rain. As I got out, I passed by the apartment where my grandma had grown up, the daughter of Polish immigrants, before moving to little cowtown Davis, CA. With the glum buildings right before my eyes, I still couldn't make out the connection between the two places besides the constant motion west over land and sea.

Back in DC my Aunt and I went on a jazz hunt. We hit a luck at the Bohemian Caverns, a speakeasy built underground at a time when alcohol was prohibited, which apparently just inspired the musicians' creative juices more. This place was built like a cave, with dim lighting and plastered, rounded walls, and they packed a 17 piece band, a bar, and an audience of forty into this tiny space. The improv sax solos were unbelievable. It was a wonderful time to share with my Auntie.

From one coastal populace to another, these American cities seemed like empires in their own right, drawing up needy immigrants into somethhing mighty. Even Chicago on the great lakes seems to benefit from being at the water's edge, whether that is because that is where the land ends, or where the trade begins. We Americans also need to keep pulling in the needy who already are one of us.

I couldn't leave the country without one more musical note and in my favor, a live Brazilian Jazz band was filling the halls at Dulles Airport. On the evening of the last day of July, I boarded a plane and crossed the Atlantic.

Cheese to please! Nepalese shopkeepers were quite slim - lactose intolerance has its perks.