To Coffee or To Kusanya Café

It’s Wednesday or hump day as most people call it!  The weather is hot and girls are dressing less and checking out the fellas to tell 'em who's best – err wait!  This is February in the Chi!  The land of warm weather today and arctic cold tomorrow!  Somehow, Will Smith’s “Summertime” lyrics seem so appropriate as I head out into this gaw’jeous weather in search of a cozy place to sit, think and ah yes…to write, but as I packed my bag to leave the house, in go an umbrella, sunglasses, a thin pair of gloves, my scarf, and a change of shoes.  I know what you’re thinking, but hey – it’s the city I live in!

As I warm up my car, I think to myself “do I just want mainstream coffee, Internet, and a fight for the table near the plug to set the mood and inspire my thoughts?"  Or "do I desire a neighborhood gem that feels like home like Cheers – where everyone knows your name?"  There are approximately 77 communities and 200 neighborhoods in Chicago so finding the right place to relax and write with free parking of course, could be a challenge. 

I headed to Englewood - a neighborhood with charm and inspiration and whose notable residents include singers such as Chaka Khan and Jennifer Hudson and the Chicago Bull’s player, Derrick Rose.  In its heart sits Kusanya Café, the only non-fast-food restaurant in Englewood started by a group of neighborhood residents.  This comfortable, inspiring place where 70s soul music is played in the background and the sandwiches are named accordingly is run by Phil Sipka.   Its Swahili name means, “amass” or gather and its Afro centric vibe yields power and encouragement.  As I sit and contemplate on whether to order the Chicken Funkadelic or a Cafe Au Lait, I settled on peppermint tea and a glazed donut.  I observed the décor - reclaimed materials were used as inspiration for design.  The laptop coffee bar is made of church pews and the lights of old glass bottles.  There are painted pictures of Malcolm X and the countertop is made of old wooden doors.  Although this café has only been open a mere 3 months, it boasts employees from the neighborhood and a desire to give Englewood residents an alternative outlet thru a number of programs highlighting the arts such as poetry night by Team Englewood H.S. and Yoga sponsored by I Grow Chicago. 

As I got ready to wrap up and leave the cafe, in walk 3 gentlemen.  Since they sat next to me, I decided to spark up a friendly chat.  It turns out they were visiting from Erfurt, Germany with Spirit of Football CIC, a not-for-profit community interest company dedicated to promoting a very special soccer ball as the “star of the beautiful game” in the run–up to each World Cup.  “The Ball 2014” started traveling in January and will journey from London across 25 countries and hundreds of schools to the World Cup in Brazil this June.  This Football’s Olympic Torch links people and communities around the world together in the spirit of fairness and respect – one signature at a time!  One ball: One world!  I signed this famous ball.  In fact, my signature was #3,527.  Before I could sign, Andrew, the program director tossed the ball to me to complete a header - a play with the forehead and a ritual completed by every single signer before me!

Kusanya Café is definitely a rare gemstone in Englewood! Its “pay-it-forward” strategy and $1 cup of coffee are also inviting ways to fill the atmosphere with warmth and positive energy! Who knew that when I set out to relax and write, I was nixing the “just coffee” atmosphere for a more appealing and fun yet delectable option better yet adventure? I literally went from writing to semi-playing soccer at this café. I must say, today was a good day!

Planes, Trains, a 4X4, & a Camel - the Journey from Marrakech to Fes!

On a 10-day trip to Morocco, I decided to close out with a journey to Fes.  Fes is the 3^rd largest city in Morocco, located in northwest Africa just above the High Atlas Mountains.   It is famous for Fes el-Bali, the oldest walled part of the city and the oldest degree-granting university in the world, Al-Karaouine.  The Fes Medina encloses mosques, fountains, squares, and souqs (open-air market or bazaar or flee market).  However, I was interested in visiting Fes because inside the medina (old city) is a leather souq, the oldest leather tannery in the world!

With 5 new friends in tow, a driver and an English-speaking guide, we set out from Marrakesh to Fes - in a 4x4 jeep, I might add.  We journeyed thru Berber villages and across the Tizi-n-Tichka Pass, which literally means difficult path because it has so many switchbacks; thru the door of the desert - Ouarzazate (Wah-zaz-zatt) and across the Sahara Desert on a camel…a camel that I had to name!  We drove between the Dadès and Todra Gorges and thru more sand dunes to finally arrive in Fes! 

Berber Village

Tizi-n-Tichka pass

Ouarzazate

Meet Hanjee!

Sahara Desert

Todra Gorges

We all hugged and promised to stay in touch and my friend and I went on to our Riad, a traditional Moroccan house.  Our room was beautiful!  It was furnished with antiques and local crafts; it comfortably overlooked a lush courtyard garden and a pool.  Our staff was quite attentive.  Upon arrival they served us mint tea as we filled out our hotel documents.  Mint tea is the national drink of Morocco.  This green tea is brewed with lots of mint leaves and loads of sugar and is offered for every occasion – breakfast, rug shopping, or as an icebreaker to lure you into a shop and have a look at their goods!  We quickly settled in quickly then headed to the Hammam, a steam room where Moroccans go each week to catch up with friends and follow long rituals for cleansing their bodies.  As Moroccan people are very kind – tolerant to say the least, it was on the way here that we met a local that would guide us on a quick city tour the next day. 

Fes is the world's largest car-free urban zone and the city infrastructure is not necessarily prepared for tourism, especially English speakers.  It houses some 1,000 narrow, maze-like, passageways and dead-end alleys filled with people and donkeys and shops and more people and scooters and mules transporting goods to the many merchants, as trucks cannot fit.  The crowds are chaotic and each step is on cobblestone.  The adventures of walking thru the souq was like maneuvering thru rush-hour traffic on the busiest and most congested freeway in the United States – the I-405 in Southern California.  

Streets of Fes

Cobblestone

Oops! a dead-end alley! 

Walking alongside a donkey!

Finally, we arrived to the leather tannery!  We walked up step after step and passed floor after floor of beautiful handmade leather items.  We were heading to the terrace for a view of the dyeing process.  As we climbed to the top for a look, we were handed handfuls of mint to put off the smell of the rotting animal’s flesh and skin.  Here we saw numerous stone vessels filled with dyes and odorous liquids.  Men worked in unbearably hot conditions skinning animal hides and standing in the vessels manually soaking the rawhides in diluted acidic pigeon poop and vinegar then transferring them to other vessels with vegetable dyes.  The hides are then dried on the roofs of the Medina and cut into patterns and stitched into a final product.  Minus the smell, I was in heaven!   Where does a girl begin?  Slippers, bags, clothes, knickknacks…if you could describe it, they could make it – in any color – with a maximum of 1 day’s timing. 

After combing thru each floor, we both decided on a few items.  As Morocco is predominantly a Muslim country, women have a more conservative role than Westerners.  Knowing this, we set a strategy before entering the stalls that I would hold the calculator, thus the final say!  As the stall owners were not prepared to negotiate with a woman, I had more time to determine a fair price while looking at the goods uninterrupted.  Now comes the fun part – negotiation!  After close to a half hour of punching numbers into my calculator – converting from the MADirham to the Dollar and even walking towards the shop’s exit several times in order to get them to my price, we finally agreed and shook hands on a price for the goods.  As you consider buying goodies in the souqs of Fes, here are a few market bargaining tips that have worked for me:

1. EVERYTHING is negotiable!  Ask for the discount.
2. The “final offer” is hardly ever the final number; however, be willing to walk away if necessary.
3. Be patient, but firm! Don’t rush the process.  
4. Sometimes bargaining takes a little more time and effort. 
5. Cash is King and minimal cash is Queen!  It’s tough to persuade shop owners to give a discount when using credit; there are additional fees for those transactions.

Morocco is the kind of place one could visit a few times and it always seems like the very first time!  The equivalent of a 10-minute chair massage at Brookstone on the sales floor – in the airport!  It’s enough to immediately trick your back into believing the kinks are gone but then realizing on the next leg of the flight that you’ve got to go buy that chair!  As I board my train to the airport, I can’t help but think, “When will I return?”

From the Bunker to the Greens!

The winter of 2000 – an adventure I will never forget.  I took my first trip off the shores of the contiguous United States to a beautiful Bahamian resort for the weekend.  There were 4 of us in all – two besties and my aunt to be exact!  We had a ball; I mean those were the days when you left a party at its close then went to an after party.  But this vacation was more than beaches, parties, and the infamous “Miami Vice” - a mere piña colada & daiquiri mix, it was the weekend we would get exposed to our first golf tournament.  At one of the parties, we saw Michael Jordan.  We were standing so close I could have accidentally knocked over his drink.  It was exciting since I live in Chicago and had never ever seen him outside of playing ball on game day.  As we chatted around the party, news of his golf tournament surfaced and before long, we had secured tickets to attend!

As the taxi pulled up to the golf course, we were hanging out of the window trying to snap pictures.  “I can’t believe it, there’s Charles Barkley,” I shouted!  “Oh my goodness, Richard Dent, the 1985 Chicago Bears Super Bowl Champ is here too” yelled my aunt!  It was at that moment someone yelled, “shush” from the golf course down to our taxi.  To think, we hadn’t even paid the taxi driver and gotten out of the car and we were already a hazard to the game!  As we followed various players on the course – in search of nothing but a picture beside them and an autograph, I couldn’t help but notice we were totally and fully dressed inappropriately.  Well, all except 1 of my besties whose a sports enthusiast and knew that khakis and a collared shirt was the best choice of attire.  My aunt and I were wearing denim shorts, tanks and sandals and my other bestie was wearing a Julia Roberts special from the movie Pretty Woman!  Yes, dressed for the Kentucky Derby, she wore a cleavage showing, spaghetti-strapped wrap dress, heels, and a hat with the largest brim one could fine.  I guess you could say that she wanted to protect herself against sunburn given we’d be on the course for at least a couple hours.  As the players moved along the course, we swarmed them for signatures and pictures.  We were worse than TMZ and a sighting of POTUS!  To say we were groupies would be a kind description!

Who knew that fourteen years later, I would be the proud big cousin to two of the best Junior Golfers in the world - Erica and Myah Jackson!  While in Georgia last summer, I had the opportunity to watch them play in the invitational-only, Bill Dickey tournament at the Golf Club of Georgia where many other championships have taken place.  Since these girls are notably ranked on the Junior Golf scoreboard and this was their first “away” tournament without their parents, I could not let them down!  I could not do a “repeat” of my star-studded golf tournament in the Bahamas.  I was on time for their “tee off,” wore appropriate clothing, and was completely quiet!  I mean, watching competitive golf in silence can definitely put you in-tune with your inner thoughts!

Erica and Myah have played in a number of tournaments - even the Callaway Junior World.  This international tournament is played on the Tory Pines Golf course in San Diego where the likes of Tiger Woods, Phil Mickelson, Sergio García, and Luke Donald have also played.  Although their golf resume is not complete, playing Pinehurst, Medina, and Cog Hill are definitely some great adds!  As their golf season starts up, I’ll keep these minor lessons learned in mind:  

1. I won’t schedule any other appointments, as the typical game lasts about 5 to 6 hours; 
2. The golf cart may drive extremely slow, but is necessary to get me through the average 7,200 yard course here in the United States; 
3. When a golfer yells "FORE!!!" - they’re not keeping score and I should “duck” because I am within the flight of a golf ball; 
4. I won’t take friends that love to talk because they’ll get us kicked off the course and the girls disqualified from the competition; and last but not least….
5. It really IS hot on the golf course, so borrowing my bestie’s hat might not be a bad idea.  Who knew, she really wasn’t so off base!

Out with Frosty and in with Phil!

Frosty and I are not friends!  Kids may love you, but I hate you!  You took the button right off my favorite pea coat - the one I felt so chic and slim in.  “Tis the season,” is the old Christmas holiday adage yet it still seems appropriate in February.  When does this part of the season end?  I mean, if the Christmas tree couldn't go into the New Year then how did you sneak a peek?  When do you go away, for good?  Well, potentially tomorrow!  Tomorrow is Groundhog’s day!  The infamous day that Phil Punxsutawney - the famous groundhog, wakes his booty up after a long winter sleep and makes his prediction for the remainder of winter.  It's almost like he’s slept off a hangover for the entire winter after a drink of the magical punch that he receives every summer during the Annual Groundhog Picnic giving him 7 more years of life.  Hmm, I wonder what’s in the punch?  Was it an Eggnog martini spiked with brandy to warm up during the winter months or was it more like a polar cocktail with Gin and maraschino liqueur?

As Phil wakes up out his pseudo coma and prepares to finally leave his burrow to observe the weather conditions, I wonder a few things…  Does he hop out of bed and run for the burrow’s opening as if he’s running to catch the last train to town?  Or does he hit the snooze button a few times as if he can’t believe it’s already February 2^nd and he just needs a few more minutes before his 7:20 start time?  Since groundhogs are vegetarians, does he snack on leftover grass before he heads out for the day because the flowers have yet to bloom?  Or is he down there whistling, trying to see if he can score a “young tender roni” to set the New Year off right?  You do know groundhogs whistle when they are alarmed and when they begin to court in the spring.

Well, tomorrow at Gobblers Knob in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania, Phil will start his first day of work!  He will check for his shadow!  Geeze, what a job?  If that were my only job in life, could I get it right?  Would I oversleep?  Or would I just act like I saw the shadow and never even report to work – as statistics show that 90% of the time, Phil sees his shadow anyway. 

I’ll tell you this, “I cannot wait!”  I’m ready to rid Frosty of his duties and let the sun shine in!  So hopefully, tomorrow will be cloudy and shadowless in Punxsutawney and Phil will hop on out of bed, run on out the burrow, and take it as a sign of spring! 

Go ahead Phil - I grant my permission!  Don’t be afraid, take a blind eye to the sun, stay above ground, violate curfew, and look for some fresh greens!  Do whatever you gotta do just don’t return to that hole thus giving me six more weeks of bad weather!

A Slice of Neapolitan Life! pt. 2

Naples, vivacious yet stressful!  A place people either love or hate!  It is the third largest municipality next to Rome and Milan and has a parallel to my hometown Chicago - the third largest city in the U.S. next to New York and Los Angeles.  Its quite chaotic - pedestrians, scooters, taxis, and buses...people, more people - everywhere you look!  It is noisy and congested and unlike Chicago, the streets are dirty and lined with graffiti and laundry hanging across buildings to dry like Downy Fresh advertising a commercial.  A third of the city is also unemployed, so con artists are as clever as the panhandlers often found on EL platforms!

Napoli is also the birthplace of pizza and pizza is what I live for.  Let the comparisons begin!  Chicago-style pizza - commonly known for its deep-dish, thick crust, high-quality ingredients, lots of cheese, topped with premium tomatoes vs. the Neapolitan-style pizza - typically made with a flat bread, mozzarella (preferably the kind made with the milk from water buffalo), basil, fresh Roma tomatoes, and extra-virgin olive oil, of course.  You know, I’ve decided…I can’t decide!  We’ll call it truths!  I’ll eat as much as I can and just enjoy this moment!  Before we head out to explore the rest of the city, I run to the tiny girl’s room where the toilet tank is above my head and the bowl is on the ground as usual.  Interesting, I can’t say I’ve seen this before. 

While wondering about, we stumbled into a beautiful neighborhood - outside the sprawl - it reminded me of Oak Street with a castle.  Across the way was a small but lavish restaurant offering a picturesque, panoramic view of the city.  Afraid they wouldn’t allow snapshots without a purchase, we ordered a coca-cola and a bottle of water.  For 2euros, we would enjoy a priceless view!  The owner comes over to greet us.  He resembled the Godfather in an Italian Mobster movie, but was quite the opposite - very charming and charismatic!  “Come back tonight and enjoy our jazz club,” he summoned and just like that, all the arrangements were made.  Our car would arrive to pick us up at 8pm.

After a quick tour of another museum, we were exhausted!  We headed back through the maze in search of our hotel and a quick nap before a night out on the town. 

Alarm clock set?  Check!  Oh boy, sleep prevailed!  Our driver was prompt and we were as ready as the Republican Party is to extend benefits to the unemployed for another 9 months. 

We arrived to a scene of well-dressed ladies in designer shoes and gents in custom sport coats floating across an all white room with elegant, purple lighting.  Champagne, appetizers and pastries were being passed as the instruments echoed the vocals of Walter Ricci.  Hold on, did you say dinner is now served?  Ha!  Exactly how does an Italian girl maintain her petite figure after eating so much?  The night was amazing!  Who would have thought?  In a place where local governments could make the Mafia proud, warmth exudes like warm apple pie!  As we headed downstairs for an after party and then out the door for the hotel, our new Italian friends begged us to stay another day.  “The night is still young,” Antonio exclaimed!  “There is SO much more to see,” Walter cried out!  As it turned out, one “slice” of Napoli was like trying to eat “one Jays potato chip,” it is virtually impossible! 

"We must start our next adventure in the morning," I murmured!  Another pair of pre-paid, none refundable train tickets to Sorrento.  

Ciao Bella!  Ciao Bello!  “Until we meet again,” we say as we kiss the cheeks of our new Italian friends - right left right!  Napoli, it is my new favorite South Side of Chicago in southern Italy!

A Slice of Neapolitan Life! pt. 1

Walk fast, with a purpose, like you have a place to be – is what I recited in my head as we headed out into the Napoli rush.  Thank goodness my roots are deep in the South Side of Chicago where the skill of a mean glare, the ability to ignore beggars and disregard the rest comes in handy.  We boarded the overcrowded Italian R2 bus headed for Corso Umberto in search of San Giovanni Maggiore Pignatelli 15.  This bus was more crowded than the night of the fireworks display at the Taste of Chicago on the 3rd of July!  And how do I begin to tell you that searching for this address was the equivalent of running through the world's largest corn maze? 

After an hour of attempting to lug bags through endless turns on cobblestone streets and coming back to the same monument, that old fashion word every big city girl is familiar with came to mind…Taxi!  “The Decumani Hotel De Charme, please!”  Up the hill, around a narrow corner, past a dozen or so scooters and a repeat of the same, at least three times - and we have finally arrived!  Arrived to a pedestrian-only area, delineated by a sort of "border crossing" that allowed entry only to cars with special permits.  This restricted zone with telltale cameras was like the blue box cameras found in high-crime areas or maybe it’s an elitist system or something!

A tiny man opened what seemed like a tiny garage door and our driver pulled into an area that was like a small subdivision.  Here were entrances to other houses, parked cars, and the lift to our hotel.  We loaded into the rusty lift that was probably serviced last century and inched our way to the top!  That’s right; to the “deluxe apartment in the sky” we go!  The hotel lobby resembled that of a palace although the rooms were simple - 2 beds, a television, and an in-room toilet and shower.

We finally arrived to our hotel!  We've been rolling since the rooster’s crow and now its time to enjoy our “Slice of Neapolitan Life” or in other words, a one-day tour of Naples! 

The misadventures of trained-train riders...

Finally, we’ve arrived at the Napoli Centrale railway station in Italy with 5 bags in tow - not to mention two fabulous handbags, but it wasn’t an easy feat!

The day began with a 7:57 a.m. train leaving from Roma Tiburtina that I mistook for Roma Termini.  After all, it IS the central railway station!  Who would have thought that after rising at 5a.m., begging passer-Byers to help haul all 5 bags down what seemed like 300 stairs, as that seems to be the magic number of steps to climb at every major tourist site, and connecting to 3 local trains, we were headed to the wrong railway station?  Fueled with the excitement of our next destination, I was alert - so when we passed the Conca d'Oro stop, I knew we were heading in the wrong direction and that it would be a loooong day! 

Alas, we’d arrived at Roma Tiburtina with 7 minutes to spare.  But which way do we go?  “Che traccia a Napoli?”  I asked with broken Italian…  No one seemed to know!  We only had a minute to decipher the Italian signage.  Here, we’re here!  We made it!  Wait!!!  We screamed as we ran up the never-ending ramp that seemed like it was once a part of the Great Wall of China!  We made it to the top - just in time to see the caboose.  Sugar, Honey, Ice, Tea!  Now what?  Two non-refundable, pre-paid railway tickets, 5 humongous American-size bags and 2 hearts pounding at a rate that is about to explode!  

Here goes nothing….  In THE most innocent, naïve, voice - with a smile of course, I proceeded to explain to the agent that the train left us.  That if they could just accommodate us on the next train, we would forever be in their debt!  Lucky for my Italian-glish and their pity, the agent was able to put us on the next train smoking!