Sacramento…what, again?

Looking down during the final landing approach into Sacramento, one can’t help but be surprised by the miles of flooded rice paddies reflecting in the sun.  I mean, after all, rice paddies!  Wouldn’t you think rice growing is pretty much something you would expect limited to China and Korea?  Not so.  The central California valley is the second largest producer of rice in the U.S., actually exporting rice to far east countries. The city does have a disproportionately large Chinese population descended from those ancestors imported to build the trans-continental railroad in the 1800’s, but there may be no connection.

Sacramento is reputed to have more trees per capita than any other city in the world, except Paris.  I’m not sure how this is determined.  Who counts all of these trees?  But it is beautiful in the summer with leaves on the overarching branches shading the streets and houses from the broiling sun.  We looked for house number nine, me and the Mrs., searching Orangevale and Citrus Heights (notice the theme?) and finally Fair Oaks. Trees.  Our next acquisition, 4712 Orono Court,  had a giant fruitless mulberry in the front yard which previous owners had uglified by lopping off all the branches above 20 feet each year under the misinformed belief that mulberry trees for some reason deserved mutilation.

One of our favorite all-time cities, Sacramento always has something going on, either in the city itself,  its many suburbs or nearby small towns, such as Placerville aka Hang Town.  You can visit friends or relatives in nearby Folsom Prison, raft the American River, listen to the Sacramento Symphony, visit the 14 million dollar Sacramento Railroad Museum or drive down to San Francisco to observe those with beliefs and customs beyond belief.

Satchmo! Pete Fountain! Igor! (?) and  hundreds more Dixieland jazz musicians from all over the world tootled into town each year for the Sacramento Jazz Jubilee held over the Memorial Day weekend. Attended by 100,000 enthusiasts and guided by 2,000 volunteers, the event was always an enormous success.  The approximately 100 jazz bands came from Russia, Brooklyn, Germany, Scotland, Biloxi, you name it, all intent on having a blast, New Orleans style.  Listeners bought  badges (the proceeds going in part to defray the musicians’ expenses), good for one, two or three days, which allowed them into the venue sites: in Old Town along the river, on the Delta King river boat, on barges on the river, in hotel lobbies, at the California State Fairgrounds, at the Freeway Gardens (under Interstate 5 with cars and trucks zooming overhead) and in bars all over the city.  Buses shuttled the crowds to and from the performances to hear piano rag, tubas and trombones. Beer drinking was encouraged.  The rousing Sunday morning services were held in a large outdoor arena attended by thousands who came to hear the gospel choirs and trumpet solos. Me and the Mrs. like,  got our groove back doin’ the Bourbon Street Shuffle. Yeah, man.