In Miami, we hear so much about art revitalizing communities that the words get a little worn. But sometimes you have to leave home to appreciate what you have. Right now I’m in Syracuse, New York, where I’m burrowed under a comforter and wearing two scarves, while in an ostensibly heated house. The cold is the least of Syracuse’s problems: this is a city I literally had to be paid to visit (I’m here on a grant to do some research in the Syracuse U. library). Locals at a cocktail party I attended Saturday night referred to their city as Toilet Town. Yet somehow Sunday morning, I found a pearl: Sugarpearl Cafe.

Yes, I am sad that I missed Tigertail’s presentation of blues great David “Honeyboy” Edwards and Cultura del Lobo’s hosting of Chilean theater company Teatro en Blanco. Miami brims with wonders. Still I’m happy that I stumbled upon this tiny vegan cafe tucked into the first floor of a ramshackle house in a neighborhood of ramshackle houses with boarded up windows and crumbling walls.

It was DIY chic of the sort that blossoms in the most destitute conditions: bright plastic modern chairs against bold black and orange swirls on walls accented by Home Depot hardware. And seeping from the back, like a warm bath, came the sounds of bossa nova. Two guys, Tom Bronzetti and Mike Robbins of the jazz outfit Flying Home, were spinning their own sunshine on guitar and bass.

When I complimented Bronzetti on his expressive solos, he said in all seriousness, “It comes from the heart.” Asked about the jazz scene in Syracuse, he said happily, “There is no scene. We have to make it.”

How many times have I heard that in Miami? So many times that after a while, there is a scene after all.