When I was in college in Philly there was a jazz club called Zanzibar Blue down on the Avenue of the Arts. This was the classy kind of jazz club where upscale folks went, people who can appreciate the finer things in life. In my head this where people like my friend Jed’s parents went. I’m not sure if they did actually go there, if we met them there once, or if it was simply mentioned at one point in their presence, but in my memory the two are linked. Classy folks = classy jazz club in Philly.
Twenty years later and Zanzibar actually showed up on my radar; the real Zanzibar; the spice island; the tropical paradise. The whole time I was planning the trip I recall saying often, in my head, in a smooth jazz-FM kind of NPR way, “Time to skedaddle to Zanzibar Blue, gents.” Continue reading “Zanzibar!”