Philadelphia
Saturday, April 2nd 2016
As I promised to myself, at the end of each day I’ll be putting my thoughts down on the paper, in an attempt to eternalize the feelings and emotions conveyed by each city.
It started this morning at 7am, when I got out of the bed, being 10 minutes late, and rushed through my morning routine and out the door. It turns out you don’t need to be 1 hour earlier at the Greyhound bus terminal, as they suggest, because 10 minutes will do just fine. I’d have probably ended up next to the really loud and drunk pack of college kids riding the bus anyway, but I might have been able to avoid the not so pleasent restroom odor, had I followed the instructions. Oh well, I guess I’ve just learned I don’t like bad smells and drunk people around me as much as I once did, and so the next big move was to put my headphones on and think of it no more.
The trip was shorter than expected, and I even managed to catch some needed zZzs. Once there I couldn’t help but notice that the weather didn’t care at all about my big trip plans, dreams and wishes, and decided to show me Philly in dark, grey and humid colors. Well, at least the pictures will look more vibrant and deep, so I got that going for me. I started to walk around, in an attempt to kill some time until my Airbnb pal replies wih the allowed check in time, and so I decided to head to the Macy’s store — where it must be warm and cozy. On the way there I found and entered a huge market place with big cuts of smoked meat put out for display, lots of sitdown type of stores where they serve hot dogs and hoagies and the Philly Cheese Steak of course, and even a bar in the middle of it all, where people felt no remorse about drinking alcohol at 10 in the morning while catching up on the latest news in the paper. Kind of a strange place but it reminded me of home somehow and I liked it. In fact the whole Philly reminds me of home, and I like it.
The Macy’s turned out to be an improper place for a dude with a big backpack to roam around at that time, so I decided to check out the building next door, that looked like an old castle, but bigger. Once I snapped the pic, I went towards the next big building that looked like a castle, and so on until I got into a plaza sort of thing from where I was able to see further into the distance. I also thought it was a great deal to spend 13 bucks on a tour in the Masonic temple but the earliest one was in 30 mins so I told him I’ll come back. Apparently my Dan Brown days are far gone and my fascination didn’t last longer than the next 5 minutes, so I never went back. Instead I headed for what it seemed to me like the street on which Rockie had run his final mile just before the iconic moment on top of the stairs. I was right, but I just didn’t know it yet. The way to the stairs was in fact paved with museums and places of art all the way, but perhaps it was the early hour in addition to the $20 to get in, that influenced my decision to skip. The artsy days seem to also be gone from me, cause I just turned down a chance to see Rodin, Cezanne and few others for the equivalent of an all right dinner without the tip. Well, life goes on, and so are we. Straight ahead I continue.
In the meantime I’m turning to my podcasts, but couldn’t help but wonder if there isn’t an app that would guide me through all these new places, with a calm and warm voice that inspires me to check them out. “An audio tour app! There must be one!”, I thought and opened the App Store to download it, but to my surprise the only ones that looked promising still sucked, and didn’t even include my current interest — Philadelphia, as part of their library. I’d be willing to pay money I thought, and so it started — for the next minutes I’m coming up with ideas of how to make an app like this possible, based on hyper geolocation, geo orientation and probably some AI. More on that, another time maybe.
Now I’m just a few feet from the stairs, and as I’m climbing them up by leaping two at a time, I’m also blasting “Gonna fly now” into my ears. How original, right? It didn’t matter, I enjoyed it! The view from the top is as expected, but the only thing I climbed there for was the Rocky statue, which to my surprise and I’m sure others’ it was in fact never planted there in real life, but only for the duration of filming Rocky 3. Took some snaps, read an Wikipedia article to find out where can I touch the Rock, and started to descend and go to the rightmost part of the stairs. There it is, I finally found it. The only problem now? There’s a line of people trying to take photos of it as well, but it seems to be moving fast. In fact the guy who is “in charge” of the line moves the crowd with military cadence, while also taking pictures for the people traveling solo like me, and boy he is an expert — in 10 seconds he managed to direct me through five different poses, 2 of which I never have thought of. He deserves his dollar “donation”.
Off we go from here too, and now towards the Boat House. Nothing special there so I decide to create my own route, starting with an interesting hill with a stairwell facade, which looked very old despite the fact that it was recently “renewed”. There I laid eating. My first break in 2 hours, and oh how much I needed it — the backpack turned out to be rather heavy for my current physical condition, a result of prolonged hours sitting on the chair in front of the computer and lack of proper exercise.
In the meantime two squirrels are running after each other next to me, but I’ve seen enough squirrels in New York to be impressed anymore so I’m not taking the picture. Going back towards the center now, I’m still building my route as I go. Big green park on the left? Let’s check it out. Interesting sculpture far ahead. Damn right I’m taking that picture. Oh, another big church that looks like all the other churches around but has this special rosette? Yes. Narrow streets with classy looking old buildings of Crimson brick on both sides and sidewalks full of trees that will form a natural tunnel of leaves and flowers in the weeks to come? Count me in! Going on like this I learned that I love the hidden parts of the city more than what’s put up for display in travel guides and brochures. I’m feeling the vibe, the real vibe of it. Or so I like to think at least.
Time to check into my Airbnb room so I can drop the bagpack and charge my phone. I headed straight to the trolley station and passed right by it not knowing that’s my destination. In fact I was so out of touch that I missed it by some 15 blocks in the other direction — to be fair I wasn’t really looking for it but just going with the wind, which by the way was blowing strong into my back. Once in the station I find out that their system is a bit more complicated than New York’s, or at least different at the best. Another beast some would say — one that has trolleys and subways all running on the same trail, and one station such as the one I entered could have a dozen of different trains that stop at it, and so you must pay close attention, especially if you are a guy with a backpack traveling here for the first time. The ride went pretty smooth though, and the waiting time was fair. Once over the river, it went above ground, and I even decided to get off a few stops prior to my destination. I saw a cemetery on the left, and I remembered it to be one of those traveling guides’ points of attraction, plus Adrian and Paulie might be buried there, plus my romantic side called for it, and so I did it. I walked into the cemetery, put my shades on, ‘cause now it was sunny, and ate my last sandwich on the grass. Magnificent at its best, creepy at its worst, but all in all not a particularly special experience. I went back to the trolley station but decided to walk the rest of the way instead.
This neighborhood looks different. It feels different. It breathes old and it feels old, but it does it with a charm that will surely stay with me for a while. Streets are laid in between old big mansion-like houses, with wooden porches and staircases, and towers and extruded windows that create extra space in the room in the shape of a semi hexagon. Some even have swings attached to the tree in the front yard, or some are looking so old that they are almost falling apart, and some are just creepy. Most of them are creepy. In fact they are so creepy that if you were to take one of them apart from the rest and move it at the end of your normal looking New York suburb street, it would definitely be known as the hunted house, but I guess since here all of them are looking like that and not all of them can be hunted, the creepiness dissipates.
That’s the type of house I’m staying in tonight, as I’m writing this, but to my romantic side and spirit of adventure it feels unpleasantly regular so far.
