Yes, I am looking to go to new places and try new things... but I also have to realize that I need to embrace my own city too! There are neighborhoods just a few miles away that are steeped in cultures that are unknown to me. Today, I enjoyed an amazing bruch with a gal pal. The cute breakfast spot was located on a shiney and polished street with new condo buildings and franchised restaurants. While breakfast was delicious and coffee was piping hot the remants of what the street used to be were fashioned all over in statues and plaques. The street used to be a corner of culture, it used to be crowded with characters. Yes, there may have been some insidious characters and others may have called the corner "seedy," but now, it is cleaner than a load of whites washed with bleach.
After breakfast, my pal and I were driving back to her place. She lives in a neighborhood that is a thriving area of history, art and culture. Sides of buildings are painted with historical and polical murals. Some people would possibly call it graffitti and the artist criminals, but these artists are revered as heroes who are applauded to their expression and documentation of the rich culture. With our windows open we heard the loud pounding of tribal drums before we saw the vibrant flashes of color moving rhythmically to the sounds of the drums. My friend and I looked at each other knowing we would be remiss if we didn't immediately park and check out what was going on. We walked over and checked out what appeared to be a small street festival celebrating what, we are still uncertain of. We watched as about twenty dancers of all ages pounded their feet to the rhythm of the thunderous drums. After every song, it appeared that the dancers made some sort of sacrifice. We sat on the curb absorbing the sights and sounds in front of us, thrilled with how lucky we were to have stumbled upon such a sight.
After the unbelievable experience, I have come to realize that I need to appreciate the city and neighborhoods at my finger tips before they disappear...
After breakfast, my pal and I were driving back to her place. She lives in a neighborhood that is a thriving area of history, art and culture. Sides of buildings are painted with historical and polical murals. Some people would possibly call it graffitti and the artist criminals, but these artists are revered as heroes who are applauded to their expression and documentation of the rich culture. With our windows open we heard the loud pounding of tribal drums before we saw the vibrant flashes of color moving rhythmically to the sounds of the drums. My friend and I looked at each other knowing we would be remiss if we didn't immediately park and check out what was going on. We walked over and checked out what appeared to be a small street festival celebrating what, we are still uncertain of. We watched as about twenty dancers of all ages pounded their feet to the rhythm of the thunderous drums. After every song, it appeared that the dancers made some sort of sacrifice. We sat on the curb absorbing the sights and sounds in front of us, thrilled with how lucky we were to have stumbled upon such a sight.
After the unbelievable experience, I have come to realize that I need to appreciate the city and neighborhoods at my finger tips before they disappear...
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