It is with a touch of jazz that I write this morning’s postcard. I’m sitting in the Jazz on the Park hostel on Duke Ellington Boulevard where I spent the night (in the hostel, not on the street).

I was drinking in Chelsea when I met some Danish guys who were on their way to a jazz gig in Greenwich Village. Where abouts exactly, they were not sure, but using the New York City street layout as our rhythm foundation we meandered – improvised, no less – our way to the bar in question.

The jazz was amazing. And in my pursuit of “real America”, which I’ve sort of decided is the purpose of this trip, it dawned on me that this is America’s classical music, and as the instruments each played their turn before coming together, democracy in action.