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.
Born in Hong Kong and raised all over the world, I've been tootling around for 33 years now. A Spanish friend of mine once said that "the smallest pot has the finest marmalade"... I have to agree with her! I'm small but I can still make 6-foot Brazilian bodybuilders cry if the need arises. And I never need to whinge about legroom on a plane!
little tara 