Ubering in D.C. and Food Trucks, etc. Nuzhat Shahzadi

The world has opened up, again. Though I still wear a mask at indoor public places, the sense of freedom is liberating. And I am back to Uber, AMTRAK railways and airlines. 

For years we lived in downtown Washington, D.C. Now our house is only 12 miles from D.C. The memory-drenched quaint cafes and cobbled streets in Georgetown, the breathtaking trails alongside the Potomac River towards the Washington monument, Kennedy center . . . keep calling me. (I happened to discover the infamous/historical Watergate hotel near the Kennedy aCenter and took a photo to let friends know I was there!).

Uber is the best choice. With nefarious-dedication, I keep exploring the minds of my uber drivers. And the conversations are awesome, always. Last weekend, Matias picked me––a young man, white, polite, handsome. After the appetizer-talks we lunged into the entrée of conversation. 

“I’m Bulgarian . . . My wife is here, too. That’s all the family here . . . She works in a store,” he elaborated.

“Why did you decide to migrate?” I questioned. 

“We wanted to be in America.” However, Matias sounded weary regarding health insurance situations. “I have a medical condition––paying $500, monthly premium.” Health care is a scam in the US––a universal sentiment among many.

Matias was 27, his wife 32. They were waiting for the right time to have kids––not yet.

I was in downtown to see a friend from Toronto. The tourist season was less vibrant. About 20 million tourists crammed into D.C. in the pre-covid times. Anyway, the line outside the national air and space museum was impressive. It was a hot day––we walked around inhaling the sounds of happiness, essence of wild flowers, the brilliance of the sun . . .

We saw a line of Food trucks––the oozing aroma was inviting. They sold hot dogs, sandwiches, tacos, steaks, meat Burritos, halal kebabs . . . “Halal” is in vogue. I chose falafel with Spanish rice, chatted with Miria(m?), the owner of her truck. Miria helped my friend with her selection. 

“Business is good . . .” She beamed. “I live in Alexandria, not far . . . drive my truck daily to D.C.”

Miria in her Food truck

My friend from Toronto

(Note: from Google: Food trucks’ current popularity began with the recession in 2008, However, food trucks have been around for decades––vendors who could not afford stalls usually sold food and other wares on the roadside.

During the first few decades of the 20th century, street vending was viewed as a legitimate business that provided work to a growing immigrant population. At one point, business owners across the country saw ridding the streets of immigrant-vendors as a way to modernize their cities. Many brick-and-mortar businesses also resented the competition with street-vendors and lobbied for increasingly restrictive regulations on street vending. 

So, the vendors kept moving to new spots . . . gradually, food trucks began operating at construction sites. During the 1960s, America was into building booms––food trucks grabbed the opportunity to sell food to workers often parking at construction sites where lunch alternatives were limited.

For years, they struggled with the reputation of poor food-hygiene . . . in 2008 due to bad economy, food trucks became popular offering affordable, mouth-watering cuisines.  

Food trucks initially became popular in large cities: Los Angeles, New York.  As their popularity grew, food truck yearly rallies (where multiple food trucks gather in one location) were born. In 2010, Los Angeles’ first-ever food truck rally drew thousands. Today, food truck rallies attract tens of thousands (Seattle Street Food Festival, founded in 2013, sell their food to over 100,000 people). 

Food trucks have become an established industry feeding/spoiling America with diverse culinary creations. 

 . . . Finally, we called a uber to return to my friend’s hotel. Our driver was Fassil. I recognized his nationality immediately. I have been to Addis several times and to Nazreth.

“I loved Ethiopia . . . Injira is still my favorite.” I charmed Fassil with my genuine-passion for Ethiopian-cuisine. 

“You liked our coffee?” How could I forget the flavor and the unique coffee making ceremony? 

Fassil hasn’t been able to bring his wife––visits her every year. This is the common story of many immigrants.

 Erol was my Turkish uber driver back home. The jolly, fat young man, was a software professional––did ubering on the side.

“I get all the children’s clothes from Turkey––my parents send them.” He was pleasantly chatty. “Otherwise, it’s expensive here with two daughters. The second one was born at home––came too quickly . . . before we could even go to the hospital.” 

Immigrants have splashed this country with different colors, songs, aroma, style, faith . . . adding new designs to the fabric of the American culture. 

 . . . I avoided my dentist for 3 years ––found a new one close to home . . .

At 11, with her family, Arian Kohi fled to America from Afghanistan.

Dr Kohi hugged me as I greeted her:

“Hal e shuma chatur asth?” 

This young woman wears Hijab with grace, beauty. She talked about her 10-month-old son, the challenges of motherhood.

She is also the face of America!

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Nuzhat may be contacted at: nuzhatshahzadi@gmail.com