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From Philadelphia to New Jersey (via a little place called New York City), April 2012

3 May

Sunday 29th April – Our last morning in Philadelphia and thus, our last breakfast at the Thomas Bond House – cantaloupe with raspberry sauce, egg souffle, sausages, home-made muffin bread, a salad with dill mayonnaise, and the usual choice of sweetbreads (I went for the orange and poppyseed). Considering that my breakfast at home usually only stretches as far as a boiled egg and a single piece of toast, this is a big deal! I’m not sure how long I can keep up this rate of consumption without actually making myself sick…!

We finished breakfast and then had a little bit of time to kill before we had to leave, so we just took our time in our room, packing up and sorting things out. At around 10:45 we said goodbye to the lovely staff and went out onto the kerb to wait for a taxi, and within about 30 seconds one had rolled up. He was gesturing wildly as he pulled in and I thought, “What on earth…? Is he okay?!?” It was a few seconds later that I realised his radio was blasting, playing Diana Ross’ “You Can’t Hurry Love’ at full volume, and he was just singing along! This is definitely the kind of guy I could like, I thought. We chatted on the way to the Greyhound station; we talked about good radio stations, how people in Philadelphia can’t seem to stop honking their car horns (“These people here, they live on they damn horns!!!”), how singers like Diana Ross don’t have to work as hard as they like people to think… actually, I made a jokey comment about how I sing in the shower and I find it pretty easy, but I don’t get paid for it, and he cheekily said, “If you sing in the shower, and the shower get cold, he tellin’ you to get out!” and then he laughed a hearty laugh.

We arrived at the Greyhound station and were almost sad to get out of the cab! Still, off we went, and before we knew it we had checked in and were waiting for our bus to New York City. It was a totally uneventful journey. After nearly a week of running around Washington and Philadelphia, I was totally pooped, and I slept soundly the whole way. I remember opening my bleary eyes and seeing a corner of the Chrysler Building and thinking, “Oooh, we’re here,” and then dropping off again until we hit the Port Authority Bus Terminal!

I would like to digress a little bit here to tell you how I feel about New York. I’ve visited this city a number of times, and each time I’ve just added to the list of things that I’d still like to do and see. I always felt that I would really like more time to slow down and just see New York from more of a local perspective (if that’s possible, for a non-local!). I feel very passionately about this city; I know it’s such a cliche, but I love it. It has a certain energy, a feeling of movement; you can stroll from only one street to another and find yourself in a totally different neighbourhood with a totally different flavour. I want to fully explore as much as I can while I’m still of an age (and while I still have enough freedom, financially and responsibility-wise) to be able to enjoy it. For this reason, I have put aside just under two months to spend here. I sense that New York could be quite a lonely place to live as an outsider, but I think that for two months I’ll be able to keep myself entertained, and I’m sure I’ll meet people through swing dance or other random avenues. Charlie leaves in two days, and then I’ll be on my own until June 10th, when my friend Cameron arrives. I can’t wait to start this part of the adventure – it’s been a long time in the planning!

Arriving at the Port Authority Bus Terminal was a little bit like coming home. After spending a month or two travelling through totally unfamiliar cities, I was finally in a place where I could navigate and find my way around without having to think too much. Phew!

The first thing I saw at the bus station was a mother and her ridiculously cute little girl; they were waiting for someone to meet them and the toddler was playing with her mother’s phone. Sensing an opportunity to teach her daughter some phone etiquette, the following conversation occurred:

Mother: Okay baby, say ‘hello’!

Daughter: Hewwo!

Mother: Now say, ‘hello Daddy’!

Daughter: Hewwo Daddy!

Mother: Now say… ‘AlrightAlrightAlriiiiiight!!!’

Both myself and the luggage handler nearby snorted with laughter as we caught a glimpse of the confused little face staring up at her mother!

Our first mission was to find Victoria, who was to be our host for the next couple of nights. We booked our room through AirBnB, which is a handy service that allows people to book rooms with people in their homes, or to rent out whole apartments from private owners. The system seems to work really well, and so far my (limited) experience has been very positive! Charlie and I had booked two nights and Victoria had kindly offered to come and meet us at the bus terminal to show us the way.

Victoria and her husband Richard, both artists, are the owners of a historic ferry boat called The Yankee, which started life as a pleasure tour boat for rich New Yorkers, and was then refitted and turned into an Ellis Island Ferry, transporting steerage passengers between Ellis Island and their lives in the New World. After that fascinating stint, The Yankee was enlisted for different purposes during World War One and World War Two. Quite the history for one boat. Victoria and Richard acquired it and have fixed it up and decorated it beautifully; it is now docked in Hoboken, New Jersey, overlooking the Hudson River and the Manhattan skyline. As soon as I read about it, I knew that I wanted to visit, and luckily Charlie had been of the same mind!

We had arranged to meet Victoria at a bakery and it took us a little bit to find it, but we got there in the end. Victoria had told me that she was easy to find, thanks to her multicoloured hair; she was indeed correct. My first impression of her can be summed up easily: she was stunning. I walked into the bakery and there she was, a vision of awesomeness: a wonderful shock of multicoloured hair, tied up with tartan ribbons; a tartan skirt; long stripey socks; a button-up shirt under a military-style khaki jacket, and, last but not least, a pair of rollerblades, on which she was zipping around while surveying the bread on offer. In many ways, it reminded me of my wardrobe from when I was a bit younger, which was a wild and multi-coloured affair full of tie-dye, patchwork and tartan; seeing her dressed like that made me want all my old clothes back!

As it turns out, she was just as friendly and lovely as she looked; the three of us chatted all the way to Hoboken about this and that, and the journey was surprisingly easy – the bus left directly from the Port Authority and, thanks to the Lincoln Tunnel, was in Hoboken in about 15 minutes. We got off the bus and made the short walk out to the waterfront, which has obviously been through a whole bunch of ‘urban regeneration’ programmes. Old warehouses and woolstores converted into red brick apartment blocks – you know the look. The ‘boardwalk’ area had apparently just been rebuilt because a while back it had just fallen – ker-plunk – about 6 feet down! So, it was all very shiny and neat. On the whole, though, even though it was more manicured than I expected, it was quite beautiful, and there was enough greenery to keep the peace. And the view….! Oh, the view. The whole of Manhattan laid out before you, shining in the sun. Nothing quite like it. I was quite dazzled.

We approached the Yankee through a small dog park and along the pier, and we met three young men coming in the opposite direction. Victoria introduced one of them as Jacques, who lived on the boat with them, and turning to greet him I found myself dazzled all over again. Peeping out from underneath a woolen beanie was a pair of stunning eyes and a face that had no business being that handsome. Did I giggle like a schoolgirl and twirl my hair? No, thankfully. I think I managed to maintain my British composure… phew! 😉

The boys went on their merry way and we entered the Yankee via a gangplank, whereafter we were mobbed by a pair of sweet wire-haired daschunds, one a miniature called Pinky and the other an 18-year-old gentleman called Mr Brown. I am so enjoying having so many dogs around on this trip! We had time for a quick gander around the boat before running off to explore New York at Victoria’s behest. First impressions of the boat? Ah. Sigh. Cosy, warm, colourful and homely for the main living areas, filled with comfy armchairs and hand-made cushion covers and furniture. Outdoors, five chickens cluck and shuffle with utter contentedness. The upper deck, where Charlie was sleeping, had wooden floors and was lined with passenger benches, with a wood-fire stove at the heart of it. Just delightful.

Anyway, without much further ado, and with the promise of a boat tour later, Victoria walked us to the city-bound bus stop, even running ahead of us at one point when she thought the bus might be pulling up. We passed a local museum which I must investigate at some point in the future! Before we knew it, Charlie and I were back in the heart of Manhattan.

The unrivalled magic of a Fat Witch Brownie,
New York, April 2012

A short subway ride later, and we were at one of my favourite places in New York: The Chelsea Market. A veritable cornucopia of tasty food, this is my go-to stop for a good lunch. It was absolutely packed; lots of The Beautiful People out for a Sunday afternoon snack and stroll. The Chelsea Market used to be a Nabisco biscuit factory and lay in disuse for a while before some genius came along and decided to redevelop it into a trendy food emporium. Now it is filled with small specialty stores in a sort of urban-retro-steampunk (!) setting. There’s Eleni’s, a place that only makes decadent iced cupcakes and cookies; then Fat Witch, which specialises in the best brownies you’ll ever eat (unless you try mine, of course!), Amy’s Breads, Ronnybrook Dairy, People’s Pops, who make gourmet ice lollies… everything looks amazing. I was like a kid on Christmas morning; I could barely believe I was back in New York, and it lent an air of the surreal to the whole experience for me. I wandered in a bit of a daze, trying to take in the fact that it had been five years since I was last here, and it basically seemed the same.

For lunch, I decided to go for my favourites; I went straight to Amy’s Breads and bought their amazing semolina, raisin and fennel bread (a party for the tastebuds!), and then crossed the corridor to Hale & Hearty Soups (a chain, but a good one, and the soups are made on the premises) where I chose a Curry Shrimp and Roasted Corn Bisque – be still my heart. Charlie grabbed a sandwich from the soup place, and we commandeered a table nearby to feast upon our goodies. The soup was incredible; the bread was just as good as I remembered it. To round off the party, we rolled into Fat Witch and bought a couple of their unwrapped brownies (which are half price, if you come at the right time of day). I had a milk chocolate chip one, and Charlie went for the double chocolate, both of which were supreme. Sighing happily and licking our fingers of the last brownie crumbs, we decided to go for a bit of a walk and explore Greenwich Village, aka the West Village.

Classic fire escapes,
New York, April 2012

We started by walking east along 14th Street, and when we spotted a sign that said ‘Young Designers Market’ we detoured and went inside. There were clothes and there was jewelry, but the thing that caught my eye was the stall selling feathered headbands – just perfect for swing dancing and general dress-ups! I dithered over a few of them and ended up with a red one, a green one and a brown one. I was in love! I later spotted a bunch of stalls along 5th Avenue selling feathered headbands, but to be honest most of them looked flourescent and a bit tatty – and they were slightly more expensive – so I’m happy that I bought mine when I did. I guess they must be quite popular in New York now, which would normally steer me away from wearing them, but they just look so good. Now I just need to start wearing fancy dresses every day so I can wear the headbands with them! 🙂

We continued our walk and started heading downtown along 7th Avenue, into the West Village, where the orderly street grid system disintegrates and it turns into a series of diagonals and lanes, some lined with beautiful townhouses (would they be considered brownstones? I think so) and tucked-away businesses and boutiques. We stopped in an overpriced trendy gadget shop and gawked at the designer cookware. A shop attendant said a bright, “Thank you!” to a customer who was leaving, and then blew a giant farty raspberry when the customer ignored him. I definitely felt that the assistant was somebody I could have a lot in common with…! Manners cost nothing, buster!

We wound our way through the streets, taking detours through whatever looked interesting, but generally sticking to 7th Avenue, Bleecker Street and Houston (pronounced ‘How-ston’, not ‘Hew-ston’, in New York). I collected business cards from any restaurants or cafes that I thought I might like to visit later, and we poked in more than a few shopfronts. We stopped to watch a game of street hockey (on rollerblades!), and Charlie was in awe of a basketball game being played by a bunch of local kids in a caged square. Welcome to New York!

Times Square,
New York, April 2012

When we’d finished our little circuit, we ended up back at 14th Street and caught the subway up to Times Square, emerging in the chaos just as the sun started to set. Times Square is positively insane. Even at night, the bright lights make it seem almost like daylight, and the sheer volume of human traffic is immense. It’s a throbbing, pulsating human centre and you have to have your wits about you or you risk being collected by the swarm and pulled in a direction you’d never planned to go in! The billboards and neon threaten to overwhelm you almost as much as the people. They scream, “BUY BUY BUY!” and the constantly-changing ticker-tape messages just keep on runnin’. Perversely, I quite like it. I hate advertising and all that rubbish, but there’s definitely a frenetic energy going on that is quite captivating, and I’m not yet so cynical that I can’t get swept up in the excitement of it all! We went for a lengthy walk around. I could sense that it was Charlie’s turn to be dazzled; even after seeing two large cities like Washington DC and Philadelphia, Times Square can still be like a smack in the face with a wet fish. I was happy to be seeing it through his eyes, remembering what it was like the first time I came.

Scattered around the square were a bunch of people in costume, much like Fremont Street in Las Vegas. We spotted Mickey Mouse, Elmo (cunningy hanging around right outside the Toys’R’Us to catch the kiddies as they went in or out), Iron Man, Hello Kitty and the Statue of Liberty, among others. Charlie had a veritable shoegasm at a number of sports stores… he’s quite the collector and all of these limited-edition shoes had him in a bit of a tizz! I was just happy to toddle along and keep him company; it was refreshing to be in the company of a guy who was distracted by shoes (and sexy cars, which he frequently salivated over in the street) rather than the chests and/or bums of random women walking past!

Is it a bird? Is it a plane?
Times Square, New York, April 2012

From Times Square, we went upwards and east, where we passed by Radio City Music Hall, home of The Rockettes, and a number of tempting smells from street vendors before making it to the Rockefeller Centre. We considered visiting the Top of the Rock (an observation deck with apparently spectacular views over Central Park), but the monumental queues deterred us; I’ll have to do it another day, preferably when I won’t be wasting 3 hours of my time in a queue! We went around to the front of the Rockefeller Centre and admired the bronze statue of Prometheus (overlooking the space that becomes the famous ice rink during the winter) before walking out to Fifth Avenue where, it being Sunday night, things were fairly quiet. It was getting pretty late by this time and, mindful of our journey back to Hoboken yet to come, we decided just to stop at the first place we came across for food – and that turned out to be TGI Friday’s…! Sigh. All the food of New York, and we ended up at a TGI Friday’s! Still, I’ve visited TGI’s in Cairo, Prague and Southampton (!) so I figured I might as well give one a try in America. And on Fifth Avenue of all places! Both of us ordered a Kansas City BBQ Burger (which came with bacon, cheese and onion rings) and, when we were finished, decided that we should walk back to the Port Authority Bus Terminal for a bit more exercise… I’m pretty sure that even with all the walking we’d done, we hadn’t done enough to compensate for the ridiculous size of that burger!

Charlie had been charged with a mission to find a packet of Twinkies while in America, and so far our search had borne no fruit – has Hostess gone out of business? Anyway, in a random Duane Reade (New York’s ubiquitous chemist/general store), I spotted a packet of caramel Tim Tams – Australia’s national biscuit of choice! What on earth…? That was the last thing I expected to find in a Times Square Duane Reade!

We arrived at the Port Authority with 5 minutes to the next bus; we bought our tickets and raced upstairs and just scraped in! We were back in Hoboken within 20 minutes and we came out onto the waterfront with a collective sigh; the view that had been spectacular during the day was doubly so at night. It was a very clear evening, so the city shone like sparkling jewels on the other side of the water, crisp and clear. The Yankee was lit up with fairy lights and we were once again so pleased that we had chosen this as our temporary home. It was about 11pm by this time, so we crept in hoping not to disturb anyone – but as it turns out everyone was up anyway. Victoria gave us the tour of the boat, showing us all the different rooms and cabins, from the cargo deck to the crew quarters (now almost a little apartment in its own right) to the cabin boy’s room (complete with a beautiful angled writing desk) and the main dining area, which came complete with a grand piano and a suspended dining table, which could be hoisted to the ceiling to make more room.

The passenger deck was lined with benches and later on in our visit, when nobody was looking, I took a little time to sit quietly on a bench and tried to put myself in the place of a newly-arrived immigrant making the journey from Ellis Island on this very ferry. How would they have felt? It must have been terrifying and exciting all at the same time, arriving in the New World and, in many cases, being given a new name and a new identity. I’ve moved countries many times now, but the advent of the internet has made the world seem a lot smaller and nothing seems very permanent. For these people, it would have meant an almost total separation from their old lives and families – forever. What a choice to make. To be able to sit on this ferry and just taste a little of that history: amazing.

Anyway, our tour continued of the boat, which was much larger than I had anticipated, and full of enticing nooks and crannies. We went up to the top deck where we once again encountered Jacques, who was brushing his teeth before bed, and we got to meet YM, another full-time Yankee inhabitant. The two of them share a small but friendly common area, and YM’s room was compact but very inviting – her elevated bunk had storage space underneath, and a nice big desk took centre stage. It’s the kind of place I dreamed about living in when I was a student (and, in fact, was lucky enough to find in my second year of university – but of course not on a boat!). Jacques slept in the wheelhouse, which I guess must have had one of the most kickass views in New Jersey.

After our tour was over, Charlie retired to the passenger deck and I took my place in my room, lulled to sleep by the almost imperceptible rocking of the Yankee; and there ended our first day in New York.

Thanks for stopping by,

Tara.

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Running In The Footsteps of Rocky and Al Capone, Philadelphia, April 2012

29 Apr

ROCKY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Philadelphia, April 2012

Saturday 28th April 2012 – We woke to the smell of frying onions this morning – always a promising start to the day! Wandering downstairs, we were presented with the usual assortment of sweetbreads but, because it’s the weekend, they put on an even bigger spread than usual! Quiche Lorraine with baked ham and ‘breakfast potato’ (fried with onions), plus a delicious fruit salad with a honey and lime sauce… slurp!

Emulating Rocky on the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art,
Philadelphia, April 2012

We walked out to Market Street and braved the local bus system (which turned out to be pretty simple, cheap and effective) to get to the Philadelphia Museum of Art, in the northwestern corner of the city. Were we there to admire the priceless artworks? No. We were there to emulate Philadelphia’s favourite fictional son, Rocky Balboa. Awwwwww yeeeeah! We were there to run in his footsteps – up all the stairs in one go, jump the last flight in a couple of steps, do a little U-turn, stick your arms over your head, jump about like a loon, pull up your trousers and jump about some more. Classic scene!!! We decided to film the whole debacle; there’s no point in making a total fool of yourself if there’s no evidence of it, is there? Hopefully, in the not-too-distant future, I’ll be able to post a video of our antics for you to see. We had an absolute ball running up and down the stairs, pumping our fists in the air and snapping pictures all over the place. Who would’ve thought you could have so much fun with a set of stairs? Hundreds of tourists were doing the same thing, and it was totally cheesy but it actually created a really nice atmosphere – everyone connected by this one silly little act. We also visited the Rocky statue, by the base of the stairs, and paid homage to his victorious stance. “ADRIAAAAAAAAN!” 🙂

Cell block at the Eastern State Penitentiary,
Philadelphia, April 2012

After wearing ourselves out with all the running and jumping, we walked to our next destination for the day – the Eastern State Penitentiary. Our tone was quite different at this place! Built in 1829, the jail was the world’s first true ‘penitentiary’, a place where inmates were treated in such a way as to encourage true penance for their crimes. Up to that point, prisons had been a kind of violent free-for-all where prisoners were often kept in large common rooms all together, spreading disease and causing a danger to the prison staff and the prisoners themselves. The ‘Philadelphia Society for Alleviating the Miseries of Public Prisons’ (one of the founders: Ben Franklin) envisaged a new system for prisons, to be instituted largely by the Quakers: complete isolation. Each prisoner would have his or her own cell and have no contact with other prisoners or the outside world, save with their guards. A white mask was worn whenever the prisoner left their cell to avoid excess stimulation. The prisoner spent 23 hours a day inside their cell, and then had two half-hour breaks in their own little outdoor exercise space to stretch and get fresh air. Quite a different vision to today’s penal systems! As time passed, disciplinary methods changed and prisoners had to share cells; overcrowding soon became a problem.

The prison building was also quite revolutionary for its time; it was built in a wheel shape, with a central post for the guards to keep watch over everything easily, and with the ‘spokes’ being the cell blocks, the entirety of which was surrounded by high stone walls. This ‘Pennsylvania Design’ was adopted by prisons all over the world and is still in use in many places.

An evil-looking barber’s chair in an abandoned room at the Eastern State Penitentiary,
Philadelphia, April 2012

The Eastern State Penitentiary itself was completely empty by 1971; the age of the building made its upkeep difficult and its conditions unpleasant. In the 40 years since, nature has reclaimed much of it; it’s funny how quickly something can become completely dilapidated if left unmaintained and at the mercy of the elements. The paint (what’s left of it) is cracked and peeled; the mortar is crumbling off the walls, and trees have made their homes in some of the old cells, creeping through weaknesses in the brick. Abandoned buildings are always eerie, and this prison even more so. Tiny doors leading to tiny cells; echoing corridors; empty shower rooms; furniture left to rot in cells; a single barber’s chair in a run-down room; fenced-off areas that are structurally unsound; the whole place was morbidly fascinating. Such a state of decay is rarely seen in everyday life.

Admission included an audio tour, so we plugged in and were surprised to hear the voice of Steve Buscemi guiding us through the bends and turns of the prison, along with the voices of real ex-prisoners and historians. We saw the cell in Block 8 where Al Capone spent 8 months in 1929 (where he apparently lived in relative luxury, listening to his waltz records and walking on his fine rugs), and we visited Cell Block 15, also known as Death Row (although inmates were not put to death here; they were transported to another prison and taken to the electric chair). We both got creeped out in one particular cell block (Number 14? I’m not entirely sure) which had not been properly restored yet; a chicken-wire fence separated us from the main part of the corridor and I was actually quite glad of it. Something about it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end; brrrrrrr. We went underground briefly to see the pipes and catch a glimpse of ‘the Klondike’, which was basically the solitary confinement unit, used for punishment after they stopped keeping everyone in solitary all the time. We also had a bit of fun with some of the mirrors which had been installed at the end of Cell Block 8, positioned so that even if a guard was around a corner, he could still see down the next block. The way they were arranged was quite confusing to the eye; you never knew quite which direction you were looking in! We also giggled (perhaps cruelly) at the mug shot of ‘Pep: The Cat-Murdering Dog’. Apparently, Pep was sentenced to life imprisonment in 1924 after killing the State Governor’s wife’s cat…!

Mirrors pointing at all sorts of wierd angles lead to directional confusion! The Eastern State Penitentiary, Philadelphia, April 2012

There were a lot of other things there that we could have seen before leaving, but hunger called. We had already been at the Penitentiary for a couple of hours and it was freezing inside (I dread to think what it must have been like for the inmates during the harsh winters), so we knew it was time to go. As we left, we spared a thought for the older gentleman we had met on Thursday who had been here as an inmate years ago. By our calculations, he was probably in his 20s (or possibly his 30s, if he was among the last prisoners to live there) when doing his time, and conditions must have been awful. Sure, you do the crime, you do the time, but wow. What a dreadful place.

We gratefully walked out into the sunshine and walked down Fairmont onto Pennsylvania Avenue to get the bus back into the city centre, where we made a beeline for the famous Reading Terminal Market. Talk about a foodie haven! If we hadn’t been gorging ourselves everywhere else in town, we might have tried to make it there earlier! The whole joint was a-jumping with people out for a food fix, and boy was there a lot to choose from. Everything from Indian to ice cream to Greek to Chinese to fresh fruit, fresh meats, wicked cheeses, confectionery… we did the logical thing and did a round of all the aisles first, to see what we’d most like to try, but by the time we go to the other end we’d forgotten the multitude of things we wanted to try and had to go back again! We were tempted to join the gargantuan queue at DiNic’s to see what all the fuss was about (I think they were just selling sandwiches), but in the end, we settled on Cajun food. Charlie had a muffaletta sandwich (which the server carelessly shouted out to the kitchen staff as “One quarter muff to go!” …Sheesh!), which was basically meats, cheeses and pickles in a whopping stack, and I tried a bit of prawn and crab pasta salad with corn bread and mac & cheese balls. Oh my. I didn’t even get halfway through it but it was gooood. We sat at a nearby table and enjoyed the piano skills of a young man who had set up a keyboard in the area; his rendition of Love Rollercoaster, done with a jazzy beat, was particularly awesome!

I resisted the urge to buy an anatomically-correct chocolate heart (ventricles and aorta!) but could NOT resist ‘The Famous Fourth Street Cookie Company’. We were about to order a chocolate-chip cookie to share when we discovered that they were selling the same cookies, dipped in chocolate. SOLD! We were so thrilled but knew the danger of eating cookies like that (once you start, you can’t stop!)… the man checked that we were over 21 (so we could cope with the pressure!) and said that he wasn’t allowed to sell them within 500 metres of a school…! We sat at a table outside and before we knew it, the cookie had magically disappeared. It was amazing, but gone all too soon.

We walked from there, through Chinatown, to the National Constitution Centre, but I am ashamed to say that by the time we got there we weren’t all that keen, and the $15 entry charge sealed the deal. We turned right around. Maybe I’ll regret that later, but right now I feel fine about it. Instead, we walked past the building that holds the Liberty Bell and marvelled at the length of the queue outside. Not wishing to waste two hours of our afternoon in a queue, we kept walking and then spotted the bell itself through a side window! Job done – we saw the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia. We then tried to get in to Independence Hall, only to find that all the tickets were sold for the day, but we were able to get through the security check and hang out in the courtyard behind it for a little bit. I had a little bit of regret over that, but there wasn’t much we could do if all the tickets were gone! Feeling a bit lazy, we then wandered home and spent a nice couple of hours just relaxing and hanging out in our room – probably something that was a bit overdue. One has to remind oneself to take a breather when travelling, sometimes. It’s all well and good to run around like a headless chicken and see everything you think you should see, but sometimes you need to find a bit of peace, too.

For the first time, we made it to the 5:30 wine and cheese that our hotel organises for the guests; we found that we were definitely a different ‘demographic’ to all the other guests present, by at least 30 years. “One of these things is not like the other!” Still, we had a nice chat and enjoyed the cheese (we were Philistines and ignored the wine) before going back to the room to back up photos before heading out for dinner.

We decided just to explore our immediate neighbourhood in search of food. A lot of the places nearby seem to be bars that also serve food, but we didn’t really feel like being in a bar and it’s Saturday night, so we felt a bit too scruffy to hang out with the Beautiful (and in some cases, not-so-beautiful!) People. In the end, we opted for Rocchino’s, a swanky pizza joint, where Charlie had a Florentine pizza (spinach, peppers and olives), and I had the Rustica: rosemary oil with chopped pancetta, potato, parmesan and mozzarella. Nom nom nom nom nom!

Our walk home took less than two minutes, and when we came through the front door we found our nightly fresh cookies waiting for us. I’m going to miss those, that’s for sure! We made ourselves a hot chocolate and sat down in the sitting room for a little bit of peace, only to be swarmed by about 6 other guests about 2 minutes later – bad timing. Next thing I knew, we were embroiled in the fringes of a heavily political conversation, and one of the guys had the balls to make an incendiary comment along the lines of “The Muslims are taking over America”. I realised soon afterwards that in this group of people, that was not considered an incendiary comment, and I was appalled. I found myself telling them how much (and why) I disagreed with that rubbish and to their credit they listened politely, but honestly I don’t think there’s much you can do to change people like that; all you can do is hope that they forget to vote! Sigh.

Anyway, Charlie and I escaped upstairs as soon as was humanly possible (the pitfalls of being in a shared guesthouse!) and now it’s bed for time again.

Thanks for stopping by,

Tara.

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Cheesesteak Judging and Banana Split Shock, Philadelphia, April 2012

27 Apr

Thursday 26th April 2012 – Well, after all that ballyhoo yesterday about our luxury lodgings, Charlie and I got a bit of a nasty shock when the scurrying of a nocturnal visitor disturbed our reverie last night! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, our room was invaded by a mouse. There we were, lying in the dark, and in the silence there was a ‘rustle, rustle, squeak’… the lights were flipped on, shoes were whipped out, and we lay in wait for the little blighter to make an appearance. Luckily for him, he was smart enough to stay hidden. I have to say, though, that it wasn’t a surprise; we’re in the old part of town, and this house was built in 1796; it’s only to be expected. In the end we just decided to pretend that it hadn’t happened, and managed to get a good night’s sleep. I just pray that tonight I don’t wake up with a rodent on my face!!!

Mouse invasion aside, we went downstairs to the breakfast room this morning and it was back to the lap of luxury: were treated to fresh brioche with boiled eggs, cereal, yoghurt, fruit salad and a selection of cakes, muffins and croissants. I tried a slice of a berry muffin with vanilla icing, which was just delicious; I really had to exercise all my will-power not to keep eating everything in sight!

Thanks to the rubbish weather today, we changed our plans slightly to involve more indoor activities; we decided to explore South Philadelphia, which turned out to be a lively combination of Italian ethnic neighbourhoods and young hipster enclaves. We walked southeast from the guesthouse in a zig-zagging pattern, just picking any roads that took our fancy. This first took us through more of the historical district, revealing cobblestoned lanes full of grand old brick houses. We came across one called Powel House, apparently the former home of Samuel Powel (Philadelphia’s first mayor after the revolutionary war), which had a beautiful little kitchen garden at the side leading to a larger green with statues in it. George Washington was a frequent visitor to the house, and we took a few moments to picture the scene as it might have been at the time (“Oh look dear, Washington’s turned up again, better put the kettle on!”) before walking on.

We passed by The Ugliest House In Existence (possibly) somewhere in our wanderings, too; a custom-made iron fence had been made, probably at great expense, and showed dogs chasing cats chasing birds chasing mice. It was supported in its ugliness by statues of bronze dogs and lions growling in the background. Just goes to show that money doesn’t buy you taste!!!

Front entrance of the Philadelphia Magic Gardens,
Philadelphia, April 2012

We finally hit South Street, the ‘Promised Land’ of funky boutiques and cafes, only to find that everything was shut until midday – apparently they’re too trendy for mornings! 🙂 It being 10:30am, we decided just to keep walking until we found the ‘Philadelphia Magic Gardens‘, the magnum opus of a local artist called Isaiah Zagar, and a big feature on our ‘to do’ list. His murals and sculptures dot the entire South Street corridor, but when we finally got to the Gardens there was no mistaking that we had arrived at our destination. It was a vision of colour and chaos; broken plates, bottles, tiles and bicycle wheels mounted together with thousands of pieces of broken mirror to create a mind-boggling display of light. One can only imagine how long it took him to put it together, and whether he planned it or whether it just came together organically. Here there was an old doll; there you could spot a smashed teapot, broken bricks and parts of what was once a fan. In some ways, it reminded me of The Crazy House in Da Lat, Vietnam: it was almost impossible to make sense of it but there was something very attractive about it. I suppose one can only admire the passion it took to get something like that finished. We wandered up and down the decorated concrete staircases, marveling at the insane angles on everything, and ignoring the rain that fell on us as we did so.

Sculptures at the Philadelphia Magic Gardens,
Philadelphia, April 2012

Outside, an elderly gentlemen saw us admiring the view and snapping photographs, and stopped to talk. It surprises me how eager Philadelphians are to be polite, and to stop and chat. Drivers acknowledge pedestrians; people stop on the pavements to let other people pass, and every time I hear an ‘excuse me’ and a ‘thank you’. Not what I normally expect from a big city! A man stopped to let me pass on a busy street and when I said thanks, he replied with an enthusiastic, “You’re welcome, sweetheart.” My little heart melted! Anyway, as I mentioned, a spritely-looking elderly gentleman stopped us for a chat; he was wearing a black leather jacket, black leather shoes, khakis, a jaunty little cap and a gold earring in his left ear. It turns out that he was over 80 but he was still a bit of a dandy, and had a killer smile! He was amazed to find that we were from so far away, and was simply delighted that we had come to his city, where he had spent his entire life. He told us about the best places to eat cheesesteaks and gave us a few other tips, including the fact that we should see the Eastern State Penitentiary (now closed and a tourist attraction) at some point. Then he casually dropped into conversation that he had ‘spent time’ there way back when, and Charlie and I both struggled to keep our jaws from dropping. Eastern State Penitentiary was no walk in the park – they put the hard-core guys in there and the Quakers gave them a terrible time! The jail was essentially closed in the late 60s, so he must have been a young man when he was there. Killer smile, indeed. Yikes!

The happiest dog in the world – 2 people petting him at once! Outside Liberty Bellows, ‘Your One Stop Accordion Shop’,
Philadelphia, April 2012

From the Magic Gardens, we started walking south to the Italian Market. We passed a garage door painted bright yellow with the Batman symbol on it (sweeeeeet), and I spotted a great bumper sticker: “Republicans For Voldemort!” Snicker, snicker, snicker. We stopped outside an accordion repair shop (who would’ve thought that such a place would still exist?) to spend some time with the owner’s disgustingly cute French bulldog, who was ridiculously affectionate. He absolutely lapped up the attention and both Charlie and I had to drag ourselves away from the plump little fella!

We knew we had entered the Italian Market proper when we could smell bread baking and garlic wafting from different windows and doorways. Sarcone’s Bakery rubbed shoulders with Ralph’s Italian restaurant; old shopfronts sold dried fruit from jars; fishmongers shouted out their stock; fresh pasta was everywhere; vendors sold fruit and vegetables right from carts and tables on the street. I studiously avoided entry to all the chocolatiers for fear of temptation! We stopped outside a provisions store called Di Bruno Brothers and I nearly had a heart attack just looking at the selection of cheeses in the window. Yummmm. The Italians know how to eat, that’s for sure!

Our main mission in this neighbourhood was to settle (for ourselves, anyway) a huge dispute that has wracked Philadelphia for years: who really makes the best Philly Cheesesteak sandwich?!? The two main contenders, Geno’s and Pat’s King of Steaks, have been facing each other down from opposite sides of a crossroads for 70-odd years. There is no middle-of-the-road for locals – you go to one, or you go to the other, but never to both. A Philly cheesesteak is basically what it sounds like – a sub roll filled with fried steak slivers, cheese and onion. We planned to order one from each place and decide for ourselves which was the best.

The battle rages on… a bona fide Geno’s Philly Cheesesteak sandwich.
Philadelphia, April 2012

We started at Geno’s, a brightly-lit, flashy-looking place at the northern end of the 9th St/Passyunk junction. The tables are outside, and the walls are plastered with photographs of fallen police officers and police patches from all over the country. A poster next to the counter where you order reads: “This is America. Order in English.” Yikes. Anyway, I did as they requested and ordered in English (!); the woman gave me a selection of three cheeses and I just asked her what she liked best. She said that Cheez Whiz (ugh) was the most popular, so I went with that. A few seconds later I had the sandwich in my grubby little mitts; Charlie and I split it down the middle. I have to say, it was pretty damn good. Thin slivers of meat, a nice crispy roll; it was flat but tasty! We licked our fingers greedily and then snuck across the road to Pat’s, hoping nobody from Geno’s would notice us and start a turf war! Pat’s is a fairly simple affair, nothing flashy – just a white counter with more outside tables. Charlie ordered this time, and in the name of fairness we ordered exactly the same thing – Cheez Whiz and onions. Again, we split it down the middle and the difference was almost immediately obvious – there was more meat in Pat’s, and it was a bit more fatty which gave it a bit more oomph. They had also been more generous with the “cheese”. And so, after polishing off our second Philly cheesesteak sandwich, Charlie and I both voted Pat’s King of Steaks as the winner. Please don’t hate me, Geno’s-loving Philadelphia!!! 🙂

The opposition: a Pat’s King of Steaks Philly Cheesesteak sandwich.
Philadelphia, April 2012

Full and contented, we waddled back up the road, through the market again, for the long walk back to South Street. By this time, all the shops had opened and we whiled away a couple of hours just pottering in all the too-cool-for-school little boutiques. We went to another comic book store, where I managed to convince myself NOT to buy the Ralph Wiggum comic book (Squeeeeeeeee!), and explored a lot of novelty t-shirt shops. In one shoe shop, the guy working there was incredibly friendly (and once again, pleased that we had chosen his city to explore); he seconded our choice of Pat’s having the best steaks, and told us to find a little place called Rita’s further down the street, where we should try the local ‘water ice’ frozen treat. He didn’t have to tell us twice! Off we toddled, and found Rita’s, where we tried a cotton candy flavoured water ice. It’s basically just a watered-down version of gelato, but apparently a Philadelphia staple, and I have to say it was pretty good! It was a bit too sweet for me, though, so I left it to Charlie to polish it off!

We stopped and had a nice moment in a t-shirt shop called ‘Cheesesteaks’, which sold pro-Philadelphia t-shirts and hats. We were just pottering through the store and the opening notes of Sam Cooke’s ‘Wonderful World’ came on the radio; I was totally thrilled when milliseconds later the volume was pumped to maximum, and I turned to the counter to see the guy simply beaming. He and I and another guy working there all broke into song, singing along with gusto to this most awesome of classics. Sigh. God, I love Sam Cooke, and I’m glad to see that there are other people out there my age who do too!

Banana Split: the aftermath.
The Franklin Fountain, Philadelphia, April 2012

After fully exploring South Street, we started our meandering walk back towards our guesthouse, where we had a breather for about 15 minutes, plotting our next move before heading onwards. As we left, we could smell the scent of fresh cookies being baked… wheeeeee! We made a beeline for a little place we had spotted yesterday – The Franklin Fountain, an old-school ice cream joint, complete with wooden bar and ancient till. All the employees (all men at this point, I noticed) wore neat shirts, little ties, white paper hats, and two of them even had little old-fashioned moustaches!  Charlie ordered a Cherry Bomb (cherry soda with a scoop of chocolate ice cream in it), and I ordered a Classic 1904 Banana Split. The damn thing arrived and it was the size of a HOUSE! I couldn’t believe it! The description had said that it had fresh banana and chocolate, strawberry and vanilla ice cream with whipped cream, strawberries, chocolate fudge and toasted almonds topped with a maraschino cherry. I had imagined a dinky little bowl. It did NOT mention that there were three scoops of each flavour, about a pint of chocolate fudge and three towers of whipped cream, each about as big as my fist! I nearly died and Charlie laughed his ass off. The people at the table next door to us pretty much screamed when they saw it coming out. I gave it a champion effort but I was totally defeated. Four people could easily have shared it! Sigh. Weak, Tara. Just weak. But at least I enjoyed it!

Old-school chocolate heaven,
Shane Confectionery, Philadelphia, April 2012

My ice cream overdose did not stop us from visiting the Oldey-Worldy chocolate shop next door, owned by the same people. Giant jars of gobstoppers and other old-time sweets filled the beautiful, ornate glass shelves, but Charlie and I were only interested in one thing: chocolate-covered bacon. It was so gruesome that we had to get some, but I’ll be honest and tell you that we haven’t been brave enough to actually eat it yet!

Feeling slightly sickly, we went to the nearest subway station and, with only minor cafuffle over ticketing, got the subway to 15th Street/City Hall. Upon exiting the subway we passed a municipal building (the front of which was scattered with giant replicas of playing pieces from famous games like Monopoly and Ludo),and I overheard a bizarre but entertaining conversation. There was a bible nut on the corner shouting at people as they exited the building; he addressed one man in particular and the conversation went as follows:

Nut: “Hey man, are you going to heaven or are you going to hell?”

Other man: “Well… where are you going, man?”

Nut: “God says you only go to one or the other! I’m going to heaven, brother! What’s your choice?”

Other man: “Man, I’m going wherever you ain’t!”

I nearly laughed out loud when I heard this. I was then quite shocked when it turned out that the Other Man was in fact some sort of local politician; he had a bodyguard and a small entourage, and people were stopping to shake his hand and introduce themselves. Well well well; I wonder who he actually was?

From this little interlude we crossed the road to the John F Kennedy Plaza to visit the infamous ‘LOVE‘ statue, and then started walking towards the Rittenhouse Square District, which basically seems to be the main shopping strip and home of the yuppies. After my banana split overload I avoided an ice cream place cleverly called ‘Scoop De Ville’, and we took a little wander in Rittenhouse Square itself, which was leafy and green; a live jazz soundtrack was provided by a young trumpet player practising his art in the park. We strolled along the main shopping area (Walnut Street), peering into expensive bistros, and I somehow ended up with a new shirt and a book. Can’t imagine how that happened.

Finally we decided that we needed some real food, so we stopped at Pietro’s Pizza for dinner. We had fried mozzarella wrapped in prosciutto and served on a bed of spinach (Wow! Green food!), risotto balls filled with mozzarella and beef (served with a delicious napolitana sauce), and we shared a ‘Roma’ pizza – four cheeses with chicken, bacon and artichoke. GLUTTONY! Once again waddling from overeating (I guess we knew it was going to be like that… the two of us are such food fans!), we headed back to the subway station. Most of the entrances that we knew of were closed, but we finally managed to find an open one and caught the subway back to 2nd Street, where we wearily made our way home. All of the electric candles in the windows at the guesthouse were lit, a nice welcoming touch. Conveniently, we arrived just in time for cookies and hot chocolate…! Bleurgh! Food overload!!! We spent a little while planning for tomorrow’s adventures, and now it’s time for bed again. Wish me luck with the rodent situation – I spotted one of the little critters in the living room downstairs and I’m having nightmare visions again! Keep calm, Tara, keep calm. It’s tiny, and you’re a giant to it. It’s all going to be okay. 😉

Thanks for stopping by,

Tara.

Addendum, 12 Aug 2012: You will not believe this. I decided to try to find out the identity of the official-looking guy who was bantering with the bible nut. Turns out that it was the Mayor of Philadelphia himself… Michael Nutter! Well, I’d certainly give him my vote! Awesome.

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Shape-Shifters and Po’ Boys, Washington DC and Philadelphia, April 2012

26 Apr

Wednesday 25th April – Somebody’s messing with my head. I went into my dorm room at the Washington hostel yesterday afternoon to find a new roommate – a thin woman with short-cropped grey hair – sleeping in bed. Later, I bumped into one of my other room-mates who said they had seen our new room-mate too; a man, who had been asleep in bed. Both of us had been under the impression that we were in a female-only dorm so the appearance of a man was odd, and didn’t explain the ‘old woman’ I saw. Later that night, I went into the room again to find our new roomie STILL in bed, only this time it looked like a heavy-set man with pink cheeks. When I woke up in the morning, the creature was still in bed, only now it briefly pulled off its sleeping mask and looked like a pallid, emaciated, frail old man! Slightly freaked out, I left it to go back to sleep while I went to the bathroom. When I came back later, it was still in bed, only it was a normal-looking man with a hat on…! I say ‘it’ because quite frankly I don’t think it was human! Shape-shifter?!? Who sleeps that long and takes on so many guises in one day? This could be a case for Mulder and Scully! 🙂

Supernatural oddities aside (!), the day started pretty normally. I battled the teenage girls for the sinks in the washrooms before heading down to breakfast with Charlie at 9, where I issued a mandatory ‘second-language’ greeting to the man in charge of the breakfast bar. He remembered me from the day before and insisted on telling Charlie that we were old friends from way back. I suppose there was some truth in the friendship thing; yesterday he bullied some poor German boy into doing my breakfast dishes for me! The poor little tyke was horrified and agreed to do it, but I insisted on at least helping out. The man had guffawed loudly at the whole situation; I liked his sense of humour.

Anyway, we packed our bags and said our goodbyes to HI Washington DC before grabbing a taxi to the Greyhound station. It was a fair distance and cost only $10 including luggage surcharge – I keep being amazed at how cheap things can be here compared to Australia! We checked in at the counter with a woman whose accent was totally unintelligible – and this opinion coming from me, an English teacher whose job it often is to decipher indecipherable accents! While waiting for our bus, we eavesdropped on an interesting conversation coming from a group of strangers behind us; they were talking about Obama and Romney, of course, and possible election outcomes. What they were saying made total sense – the financial mess was Bush’s fault, Romney is not the Republican candidate of choice and thus has less of a chance of election, and America needs to give Obama another term if they seriously want to make it out of the financial quagmire. It was nice to hear sense coming out of the man on the street; too often in Australia all we see of the US are the rednecks on their soapboxes, full of hate and bigotry, preaching insanity. It was really quite reassuring to hear something different.

I got a little snacky (we had had to check in very early to collect our tickets), so I tootled over to a vending machine, which turned out to be filled with the most abominable garbage that could not even be loosely termed as ‘food’. In the end, I decided just to give in to the garbage, and bought a vile packet of flourescent orange cheese crackers filled with peanut butter. Yes, you read that correctly. Peanut butter. I tried one and nearly gagged, and had to make myself throw it away or I knew I’d keep eating it anyway!  Who eats that crap?!? (Apart from me, of course!) I then tried to buy water to rinse the taste out of my mouth, but an investigation of all five drink machines revealed that there was only one vending machine that sold water, and it was broken. D’oh! Not wanting to top off my evil snack with a soft drink which couldn’t quench my thirst anyway, I had just enough time to run to the bathroom and drink from the taps before we had to board the bus.

I’m not sure if Greyhound can be making much of a profit out of Washington. Every bus that we saw departing from the station was basically empty; either nobody’s going anywhere, or they’re all flying or driving themselves. Our bus had the two of us and maybe three others on it; other buses were leaving with 1 or 2 passengers, or in fact none. Perhaps they receive a government subsidy? I’m not sure, but I reckon all of those buses were running at a loss this morning.

Our journey was pleasantly uneventful; we both listened to our music and dozed on and off for the three-hour trip. We passed through thick green woodlands outside Washington, and then the bus made its only stop in Baltimore, which I found quite fascinating simply due to the fact that I had been an addict of The Wire, and passing by the docks made me think of Season Two…! Dork! After leaving Baltimore, we entered a stretch of freeway that passed through what looked like farmland; little wooden farmhouses with picturesque barns were dotted on both sides of the road, some hidden by trees. After this fairly delightful view, we were witness to an expanse of suburbs that reminded me quite strongly of Eastleigh, back in England – the stretch of brick houses along the railway line, if anybody reading this is familiar with that area…! Terraced brick houses with little white lean-tos, not in very good condition but quite liveable! There was an elderly lady sitting on her porch in a purple tracksuit, enjoying a vivid pink drink which matched a scrunchie in her hair; I wonder what her story was. I’m so often tempted just to go and talk to people and get inside their world for a bit, but sadly it’s not always possible – or indeed appropriate!

We could see the Philadelphia skyline from some distance; it’s a much bigger city than I had imagined, and quite spread-out. We started singing the theme from ‘Fresh Prince of Bel Air’ (“In West Philadelphia, born and raised, in the playground is where I spent most of my days, chilling out max and relaxing all cool and shooting some b-ball outside of the school…!”) as a sort of welcome to the city, but frowned at the thought of singing Springsteen’s downbeat ‘Streets of Philadelphia’… but then what should we see, first thing, as we came off the freeway? A giant poster of Springsteen himself, who is apparently the subject of an exhibition at the National Constitution Centre…!

Living large at our B&B… who let the scruffy backpackers in?!?
Philadelphia, April 2012

We exited the bus and hopped a cab to our bed & breakfast, which turned out to be MUCH more swanky than we had thought. It’s right in the heart of the historic waterfront district, in a heritage-listed (built in 1796) home. The sitting room and dining room are downstairs, and the guest rooms are on the numerous upper levels. It’s all Chippendale furniture and antique furnishings; classical music greeted us as we came through the front door and our room is small but impeccably decorated, with exposed wooden beams. The bed is so high that I need a stepping-stool to get on it…! No, really. The trials and tribulations of being a shortass, once again. 🙂 Upon check-in, we were informed that wine and cheese would be served from 5:30 to 6:30, and freshly-baked cookies would be served at 8pm, and breakfast was from 8am. Blimey. Wine and cheese and cookies! Quite the change from the YHA’s “You eat off it, you clean it” policy!!! We took our bags up to the room and then set up camp in the sitting room downstairs, playing at being aristocrats on the chaise longue while planning our ‘things to do in Philadelphia’ list. Having figured out a basic plan for the next few days, we set off for a little walk around the neighbourhood without much of an idea of where we were headed. We passed by a Cuban restaurant (I resisted the urge to go in) and a bunch of ridiculously cool-looking bars and restaurants before hitting Market Street. We popped into a little shop called Smak Parlour, which sold cutesy little knick-knacks with cutting slogans on them like, “Inner beauty is for amateurs” and “Yes, I am that kind of girl!” but resisted the urge to buy more junk that we didn’t need!

Continuing along the street, we came across a little park filled with dorks (read: future internet millionaires) playing frisbee, which was part of the larger Independence National Historical Park, an L-shaped green lined with a number of Phialdephia’s most important historical monuments. We snuck around the windows of the Liberty Bell Centre (closed at this time of day) but couldn’t get a glimpse of the legendary bell itself, and then stared admiringly at Independence Hall, which was also closed – it’ll have to wait for another day!

We then walked north along 6th Street, past the National Constitution Centre, and right onto Race Street, admiring all the beautiful little brick-lined laneways and historic buildings we were passing. Philadelphia really has a very different vibe to Washington DC; it buzzes with life and feels much more alternative; there’s something going on down every little alley and all of it seems interesting! It’s also painfully cool… but I think I can forgive it for that! We spotted a wicked-looking bar with a delicious-looking menu, and made a mental note of it for dinner. Continuing down Race Street, we passed a number of specialist industry shops; places to buy glassware for bars and kitchenware for restaurants, along with period restoration companies (complete with cats sunning themselves in the window), trendy boutiques, antique stores and galleries… quite the mix. One shopfront (an architect, I think) had a ‘Little Free Library’ outside – it was a hollowed-out dollhouse with a glass flip-out front. It was filled with about a dozen books, and the instructions read: “This Little Free Library is from friends who wanted to Pay It Forward. They hope you will do the same! Take a book, return a book.” What a great idea!

Elfreth’s Alley,
Philadelphia, April 2012

We wandered over to Elfreth’s Alley, which is apparently America’s oldest residential street. The street is very narrow (just about wide enough to fit a horse or two!), cobblestoned, and filled with houses that date back to the mid-1700s. All of them have wooden panel doors on the ground outside for entry to the basement, and the wooden shutters were just beautiful. We were lucky enough to get there at a time when other tourists were mostly elsewhere; the hordes had left us with the street mostly to ourselves, so we took a leisurely potter from one end to the other. It was quite stunning, but I have to say that I’d probably hate to live there; it’d be like living in a goldfish bowl with all those people passing through! I was, however, charmed by a little side alley called Bladen’s Court, which looked like a miniature grove and led off to ends unknown. Lovely! Just like The Secret Garden! 🙂

From Elfreth’s Alley, starving after missing lunch, we pretty much ran back to the Race Street Cafe, which we had spotted earlier. Charlie ordered a ‘Dogfish Head Noble Rot’ beer (!) and a Spanish chorizo and beef burger with cheese fries, and I had a Race Street Po’ Boy, which was freaking awesome. A long, sub-like roll sprinkled with polenta on the outside and parmesan on the inside and toasted, then filled with a little crab salad (not made with mayo, hallelujah), some lettuce and avocado, and topped with corn-meal coated fried prawns and a yummy savoury (BBQ of some kind?) sauce, served with the crunchiest fries in existence, tomato sauce, and home-made mustard. Oh. My god. I demolished the whole thing in what seemed like one breath. After ending the feeding frenzy, we glanced about to realise that we were almost entirely surrounded by medical staff from, we assume, a nearby hospital. I was mildly peeved by a woman at the next table who was so vapid she almost wasn’t there. The man she was with decided to order something to snack on, and suggested nachos with pulled pork. He asked her what she thought. “I don’t mind.” Well, are you hungry? “Um, I’m okay with whatever.” No really, what do you feel like? “Oh, I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” Do you like nachos with pork? “I really don’t mind.” You could see that he was almost as peeved as I was; if this was a date, she probably wasn’t going to see him again. Get a personality, woman!

Delicious Po’ Boy at the Race Street Cafe,
Philadelphia, April 2012

From Race Street we walked south along 2nd Street, stopping to investigate anything that took our fancy, most specifically a comic book shop called Brave New World. TOYS!!! I came thisclose to buying a ‘Supernatural’ comic book but tamed myself at the last minute. I then had a near heart attack when I saw this t-shirt representing the movie ‘Stand By Me’ (the Pez! The comb! The leech!) but sadly they only had it in small! Aaaagh! When we reached Market Street, we hung a left towards the waterfront where we passed an Italian restaurant and some rather intimidating guys in suits outside… sleep with the fishes!!! After doing a little tour of the neighbourhood (more awesome-looking bars and restaurants; it would take a lifetime to try them all!), we found ourselves back at the hotel just in time for hot chocolate and fresh-baked cookies! Our fellow guest-housers included a Parisian woman, a German guy and a couple from Texas… quite the mix!

And now here we are, pleasantly exhausted and ready for bed after another successful day of eating and doing stuff. 🙂

Thanks for stopping by,

Tara.

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