Notes From Boomerang Creek: A spring weekend in the nation’s capital
Cathy Salter
In the fall of 1967, I arrived at Pranakorn Teachers College near Bangkok, Thailand — a 21-year-old Peace Corps volunteer assigned to teach English.
Chomsri, a 16-year-old student at the school, lived with me for the next three years. She and I became fast friends, traveling all over Southeast Asia on jam-packed buses without doors, sleeper trains, rot-tuk-tuks (three-wheeled motorcycle cabs that spewed black smoke), ferryboats and un-air-conditioned taxis.
A few years ago, Chomsri invited me to meet her in Washington D.C. — a city that I never tire of exploring on foot or by Metro. We arrived on the first day of the annual Cherry Blossom Festival, just as pink blossoms were emerging around the Tidal Basin between the Mall and the Potomac River.