Maybe Mexico by Jerry Jeff Walker. I followed him since high school. RIP my lost gonzo compadre.
Thailand had not had a new Covid case in three months when we took off and there were temperature checks and protocols up until the minute we left. Not so when we landed at JFK. There were many people not wearing masks and no check in procedure, even though we were coming from the Middle East. Just self scanned our passports on a machine and strolled through the un-manned US Customs check point. As such, we decided to self quarantine for several weeks in the Park Slope neighborhood of Brooklyn in case we picked up something on the plane. Didn't want to kill anybody at the wedding.
Stayed in a cool brownstone in Brooklyn Hipster-ville.
Visited with my mother in Richmond,Virginia for several days. Among several other adventures with my mom, we went to the, uh, greatly transmuted statue of Robert E.Lee. In a different epoch I went with my grandfather to the site on Monument Avenue. His grandfather had joined the Confederacy during its dying days (1864) at 14. There was a picture of T.C. Leake in his Confederate uniform at the house.
My Mom dropped me off at the Richmond train station and I continued on to Washington DC to visit Giles and Lauren. Giles smoked a brisket for many hours one afternoon/night and I taught them the life lesson of the elaboration of Boeuf Bourguignon another night (hint: you can't use too much red wine and don't pull the roux out until it is a deep dark chestnut brown). Did, however, dirty every dish they had in the house
There were maybe three other passengers in my car on the Amtrak Northeast Regional. The DC area Metro was also eerily empty; a couple of times I was the only person in my subway car.
My Airbnb was within a few miles of the National Mall so it was easy to wander around what is now a ghost town of Greco-Roman architectural monuments. Anybody familiar with the the poem Ozymandias?
It seems that most of/almost all of the federal employees that occupy the Federal Triangle area are working from somewhere other than there. The many restaurants that normally provide lunch to these thousands of workers and tourists were boarded up. Tried twice to go hang around the Smithsonian museums but bagged it because the on-line registration process was too cumbersome.
Stopped by Gloucester Banks,Virginia where my grandparents built a cottage in a summer community in 1924. This York River pier, led to the site of many memorable crab bites, ghastly splinters and stinging nettle welts for both me and my children for many decades. There was always the risk that a swimmer could come out of the refreshing saltwater in a lot worse shape than when they jumped in.
The erstwhile Leake cottage. Gloucester Banks was a child's paradise. Kids could wander around shirtless and barefoot for 18 hours a day, usually with minimal parental supervision. Some parents couldn't be bothered with much oversight as they were usually too busy, yucking it up and telling tall and apocryphal tales on the porch. We had one rule though, dinner had to be served before midnight.
Alas, some years back, ownership of the cottage slipped away from us.
Inevitably, a discussion ensued concerning the question that vexes all perpetual wanderers in these times of Covid; salient topics included closed countries/continents and places with high contagion rates.
The dialogue eventually begs the obvious question:
Where to next?
A little Googling and up pops the Yucatan. Low cases, outdoor living, open to Yanks and an 180 day visa.
JFK to Cancun it is.
Thanks for stopping by
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