Living downtown on Broad Street gives you a front-row seat to life in Kingsport. From my loft above Boops and Beans Cat Café—the dream of April and Charlie Carder, who moved here from Texas after retirement—I can hear the city breathe. April has a heart for cats, Charlie is about the nicest man you’ll meet, and most days his shirt just says, Be Kind. That motto played itself out on the streets this past Saturday when Fun Fest closed down a section downtown for its annual street fair.

With a mug of coffee in one hand and my camera in the other, I walked down the 25 steps from my loft straight into the middle of it all—the heat rising off the pavement, performers already gathering, and Broad Street alive with neighbors, music, and anticipation.

The first of the day’s troupe shimmered into view—Erin, the Granite Goddess, gilded in gold, preparing for her stony silence, while Mike balanced high on stilts like a gentle giant. Both had come from Asheville but blended into Broad Street as if they’d been here all along.

Vendors lined the sidewalks with everything from skateboard decks to vintage film portraits, while kids crowded face-painting booths. Market Street hummed with the voices of Kingsport’s international community. At the South American table, a woman named Kapoola stood radiant in burnt orange, her smile pulling everyone toward her.

Not long after, the stage filled with music. A young fiddler named Chloe on Strings stepped up, her dad beside the stage, playing her background music with quiet pride. Chloe’s energy was contagious—bow flying across strings as she wove pop tunes into traditional fiddle runs. Later, she stepped down from the stage and carried her music into the street. Children gathered around her, dancing in loose circles, their laughter rising above the hum of the fair. It was one of those rare moments where you could feel music tying people together right there on the pavement.

And then—one of the day’s most enchanting moments—the belly dancers took the stage.

A friend of mine was part of the Meraki Movement Studio from Johnson City, and together with her troupe, they brought the rhythm of faraway places to Broad Street. Their performance wasn’t just entertainment—it was a channeling of something ancient. Silk veils caught the summer breeze, their movements blending discipline with freedom. For a moment, downtown Kingsport was transformed into an open-air bazaar, filled with rhythms older than our city, older than our country, alive again in the heart of Appalachia.

These women weren’t performing for approval. They were embodying tradition, honoring history, and reminding us that art has always been one of humanity’s most honest languages.

As if to underscore the carnival atmosphere, Santa Claus himself rolled by in a wheelchair decorated with a palm tree. He’s retired now, working in one of the downtown antique shops, and of all things, he paints rocks—many of which you may stumble upon along the Greenbelt. Kingsport has a way of surprising you like that.

From aerialists twisting above the crowd to bagpipers closing out the afternoon, the day felt less like a small-town street fair and more like a crossroads of cultures, talents, and traditions.

Mayor Paul Montgomery even stopped to greet Miles and Nikki Burdine, who were signing copies of their new children’s book, Live Like Grunt, inspired by their dog. Nikki left with a commemorative Kingsport coin, a reminder of how even city leaders mix right in with the fair crowd.

By the time the Hot Dog Hut’s eating contest fired up in front of the State Theater, the crowd was buzzing. Bagpipers closed the morning as the air turned misty with summer rain, sealing the whole event in a kind of cinematic haze.

Call it a street fair if you like, but Broad Street that Saturday felt more like a gypsy bazaar—filled with music, movement, and voices from every corner of the globe. It was a celebration of diversity and the unique spirit of Kingsport, where expression takes many forms and stereotypes have no place.