I’m staying in a mansion.
No fooling. This beautiful house (This is a house? Who needs a house this big and fancy??) was built by a flour merchant in 1885. It is now a hostel.
Sacramento is a city. I’m not used to cities.
Big and small, natural and man-made, rich and poor, wet and dry, contrasts are everywhere.
And diversity. In 2002, Time magazine cited Sacramento as the mose ethnically and racially integrated city.
And it seems so. There are all sorts of people walking around. Getting cash at an ATM, English was one of eight languages from which to select.
Wednesdays there is a farmers market in Cesar Chavez Plaza.
I happened upon it by chance. Booths are arranged in a big circle…
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