The Sights, the Sounds, the Smells of Philadelphia

On a rainy Sunday morning, I made an escape from the bubble that is the Peddie School and stepped into the city of Philadelphia. The sights, the sounds, the smells all came at me from various angles of the city, opening my eyes to the culture, society, and history that is Philadelphia.

My travel partner Ben and I got off the small yellow Peddie School bus at City Hall. I felt a mist of rain on my face so I pulled up my large hood to keep me dry. I immediately took out my camera to document the start of our journey by taking a snapshot of City Hall. Ben and I commenced our walking, made a left then a right and strolled to the Reading Terminal Market. As soon as we stepped inside, I was overcome by the size of the indoor market, the smell of fresh baked goods and fish, and the hustle and bustle of sales being made. There was everything from ice cream, Philly Cheesesteaks, and jewelry, to King Crab legs the size of my own. My stomach was rumbling at the sight of all the food as I had not eaten breakfast so I bought a large blueberry scone at the nearest bakery. Ben pointed out an empty section of the market and told me that the Amish usually manned that area, but they were absent considering it was Sunday, the day of rest. After roaming the market, we stepped back outside into the misting rain now with the remains of my blueberry scone in hand.

We began to walk over to the Old City and the Independence Mall but were stopped by the Friendship Gates, the entrance to China Town. The ornate, three story high gates drew us inside and we walked up the long street. I was walking right on the curb by a large puddle when a car drove by and splashed me with the dirty water. My pants were soaked! I had seen the same thing happen to people on TV and in movies time and time again, but it had never happened to me. I did not make a big deal out of it since my pants were already a little wet from the rain, but I felt like I was one of those unfortunate characters in the movies and just started to laugh. Ben started laughing too. We then went into a small shop filled with the bright colors of Oriental clothing. I started to examine small jade figurines of horses and tigers as Ben examined some wooden pipes. Ben picked up one wooden pipe in the shape of a phallic symbol and we both started to laugh.

We walked back out of the Friendship gates and continued on our way to the Old City and the Independence Mall. We first went into the Constitution Center where Barack Obama had recently given a speech. Near the entrance there was patriotic colored bulletin board entitled “What You Look For in a President” with pale yellow posted notes written out by visitors. One said “Last name isn’t Bush;” another said “Ovaries;” and my favorite said “Chuck Norris.” Next we went to the Second National Bank and from there we went to the Liberty Lights Center where I had read that there was a hologram of Ben Franklin. I was really excited, but when we got there, I was quite frankly disappointed. I thought it would be a 3D, full body hologram and you could ask him any question you wanted. Instead, a man in a 1700’s costume directed us to a 2D image of his upper body and a computer in the shape of an old fashioned book with only preset verbs and nouns you could click on to ask him. My friend Alex had told me that Ben Franklin was rumored to have had Syphilis and I should ask him about it, but unfortunately “Syphilis” was not one of the preset nouns.

After the big disappointment, Ben and I went to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers in Washington Square. In the square, which was a peaceful little park, I zoned out for a second as I was taking a picture and all the sudden I hear a man scream “Beep!” as he almost hits me with his bike. He was just messing with me but I thought I was about to have a heart attack. I turned to Ben and he was just laughing at me. After my heart stopped racing, Ben and I sat down on a cold stone bench next to the tomb where a continuous flame burned and we jotted down some notes of the days previous activities. Once we had finished writing, we head over to Fabric Row, the fashion district of Philly. Right outside of Washington Square, a large lost lady asked us for directions. We told her that we are not from the City and did not know the place she needed to find. She said thanks anyway and we both went on down our separate paths. Since she had asked for directions, we must have appeared to her as locals; we blended in. Soon after, a man who seemed to be on crack came up to us and asked,

“You seen a Wawa?”
“No we haven’t,” Ben and I both replied.
“I need some change,” he blurted out with an unnatural twitch.

Ben gave the crazy man four quarters and he tried to give Ben a dollar bill back but Ben made him keep it and the crazy man quickly walked away. We went a little further and came to an ancient graveyard. The grass was lush and overgrown and the faded gravestones seemed as though they might topple over. Out of nowhere comes our teacher, Mr. Clements, on his bike. He said hello to us, stopped for a quick chat, took a picture, and he was off again.

After our brief encounter with Mr. Clements, we started walking again. Soon I was struck by a chic and trendy wave. Fabric shops with different cloths of all the colors of the rainbow lined the streets. We had reached Fabric Row. We did a walk through the area, observing the surroundings and the window displays which was all I could get Ben to agree to. Once we finished our walk through of Fabric Row, Ben and I were both hungry and wanted some authentic Philly Cheesesteaks. Apparently, there are two main restaurants, rivals if you will, where you get your Philly Cheesesteak, Pat’s and Geno’s. According to Ben who had been to Philly numerous times, Pat’s was the place to go. When we finally got there, I discovered that Pat’s and Geno’s were right across the street from each other, both with endless lines of hungry people. Ben waited on the endless line while I staked out the table. Ben came back with two Philly Cheesesteaks and some fries. Mine had peppers and some cheese whiz. When I took a bite, the cheese whiz came running down my hand and on the sleeve of my Calvin Klein raincoat. Although messy, it was quite satisfying.

After we finished our sandwiches, we made our way to the Italian Market. Little by little, the pizzerias multiplied. We knew we where there when we saw the name “Bruno Brothers” everywhere we turned. We went into a Bruno Brothers shop and as soon as I stepped inside I was taken aback by the intense aroma of cheese and olives. Every type of olive was displayed in crates and there were mounds of Provolone cheese hanging from the ceiling that were twice as big as my head. Behind the counter, there was a thin man with huge brown hair, almost an fro, and a bushy mustache. Once we had our fill of cheese and olives, we left the shop and I instantly spotted a chocolate shop and had to go inside. There was every kind of truffle you could imagine, various kinds of chocolate covered pretzels, and much more. I am a bit of a chocoholic so the sight of all that chocolate was just about too beautiful to handle. Ben and I left with a bag of truffles and sat down to eat them at a near by outdoor café. I took out the first truffle, small in my hand, and my favorite flavor, dark chocolate raspberry. I took a bite. The fruity coco mixture was absolutely heavenly. I savored every little bite. After a couple more truffles, I went into the café and got some chocolate hazelnut gelato which was equally heavenly. A chocolate lover’s paradise.

Once all the chocolate was gone, we started walking to Society Hill. On the way, a guy with dreads came up to ask us if he could borrow a pen. As I observed his unsanitary locks, he used Ben’s pen to write something down a on scrap of paper and was on his way. A little while latter, we passed by a sketchy man in a torn up jacket sitting on a stoop. He called out, “What’s up gurl?” and I tried not to turn around. Oh the cost of being a girl. When we were almost there, I saw a prom dress shop and had to go in. Ben refused to go in and stayed outside. The sign above the door read, Liatali; the most unique collection of women wear. There were gorgeous gowns of all different sizes, styles, and colors. There was only one person in the store, a middle aged man with gray hair and a slick goatee named Eli Aroshas behind a desk. One floor length white dress with clear crystal beading caught my eye and I went over to get a closer look. Next to the white dress was an ice blue silk dress. As I eyed the dress, Eli told me that that the dress was the same style as the dress Rose wore in the Titanic. Eli then went to the back and turned on some seductive Latin music. He came back and asked me in a rather sexual tone if I would like to try anything on. At this point, I was kind of creeped out and told him that I had to go. He gave me his card and then I swiftly left and met Ben outside.

After that creepy encounter, we walked up to Society Hill. The Hill was lined with adorable old houses, cobbled streets and flowering trees. It was like a glimpse into the old world of Philadelphia. It was beautiful. There were a few houses for sale and Ben and I both said that we wanted to buy them so we could live in such a beautiful place. Just as we got lost in admiring the picturesque rows of houses, I get a call from Mr. Clements who tells me that everyone is on the bus waiting for us. Ben and I hurried over to the Vietnam Memorial and found the small yellow Peddie School bus packed and ready to go. We hopped on the bus and head back to Peddie with the sights, the sounds, and the smells of Philadelphia still fresh in my mind.

Exploring Today’s Philadelphia

Destinations of great historical importance can be fascinating to visit, there is something entirely different about seeing and experiencing a place of great historical significance. Although sometimes is the case, travelers do not always find themselves in the right place at the right time- in all likelihood you will not be visiting a city when a specific performance, event or convention of your choice is taking place. But in a city with a rich history and culture like Philadelphia, there is always something for a traveler to see and experience and because of this these cities will always attract curious travelers from the world over. Settled by William Penn in 1682, Philadelphia is considered the “birthplace” of our nation because of its critical importance in the Revolutionary War. Until around 1830 Philadelphia remained the largest city in the United States. Today, aside from its history, Philadelphia is known for its cosmopolitan atmosphere, art, professional sports teams, and of course the Philly Cheesesteak. Philadelphia is a city that anyone would agree, embraces its history, but by no means is it a city that lives in the past. Recently I had the chance to visit Philadelphia, see the history behind the city and ultimately how it’s past has shaped it into the city it is today.

The first thing that struck me, walking around Philadelphia, was its size. But this time I didn’t feel overwhelmed by the immense size of the city in fact I was surprised at how small the city truly felt. Philadelphia has a large metropolitan area which makes up for much of its population, but for a traveler most of the cities sights are within a convenient walking distance. My colleague Hilary and I were able to explore a broad spectrum of sights, from Independence Hall to the Italian Market, all by foot and all within the better part of a day. We found that even the simplest of travelers can manage his or her way around Philadelphia.

Hilary and I began our day at City Hall in center city Philadelphia, which sits at the intersection of Broad and Market Streets. The wind was blowing and the thick grey clouds threatened to open up. Never mind the weather, we enjoyed the quiet sidewalks and nearly empty streets of a rainy Sunday morning in April. We followed Broad Street north to Arch Street which led us directly to Reading Terminal Market-our first stop. Reading Terminal is a great place to grab a breakfast or lunch, with over 80 vendors selling everything from fresh seafood to crafts it is also a great place to spend time even if food isn’t your highest priority. Hilary and I arrived to find the market relatively quiet. Chairs and stools were still turned from the floors being mopped the night before and besides bakeries and small diners, most stalls were closed for the day. Hilary enjoyed a blueberry scone from a bakery near the entrance as we strolled the perimeter of the market looking for something tasty or intriguing, but nothing caught our eye so we zipped up our jackets and headed out onto Arch Street again. Not far from the market we came across the Chinese friendship gate, the elaborate and ornamental archway that marks the entrance to the Chinatown district. We decided to explore some of Chinatown which, unlike the rest of the city, was bustling with activity and complete with all of the standard city noises one would expect during rush hour. For some reason neither the weather nor the fact that it was Sunday had kept Chinatown quiet. We poked our heads in a few small gift shops which sold phony silk dresses, miniature Buddha statues, bamboo gardens and good-luck charms. Another shop down the street was painted and carpeted in light bubbly blue and was dedicated entirely to “Hello Kitty” merchandise. Being conscious of the time and having not seen anything that caught our eye, we left Chinatown the same way we entered and continued down Arch Street toward the river.

Before long we found ourselves at the new National Constitution Center on Independence Mall. The interior of the Constitution Center was as impressive as the exterior, and we would have loved to spend more time in it had the admission prices for the exhibit been within our budget. Instead we walked to the other end of Independence Mall for a look at Independence Hall itself. The simplicity of the building would remind most visitors of the nation’s modest beginnings such a short time ago. We took a look around the Hall itself and a neighboring courtyard. Next to the courtyard was a Greek type building with eight large Doric columns and a large, commanding triangular pediment. Upon seeing the building I knew exactly what it was, though I’m not sure if Hilary did at first, luckily there was a sign out front for a free exhibit which helped me coax her into the building for a look around. As we entered, on our left was a bronze plaque commemorating the charter of the Second Bank of the United States and Jackson’s war on the bank throughout his presidency, these days with security and large scale tourism its not often that you get so close to such a interesting piece of history. I could imagine Nicholas Biddle, president of the bank at the time, coming to work in the morning through those same doors almost 200 years ago. The exhibit was quiet, simple, clean and an expenseless break from the city, but the best part was not the exhibit, but going down into the basement and being able to see the foundations of the building. Looking at the foundations of this building and seeing the hodge-podge of oddly, misshapen rocks I began to consider why after the war of 1812 when the bank was rechartered was it necessary to have a building that whose façade would undoubtedly command respect. 

We found an exit in the basement which brought us back out to Chestnut Street where we then located the Liberty Light Show that Hilary had been eager to see. The Liberty Light Show would be a great place to bring kids, but the talking Benjamin Franklin hologram was not exactly what Hilary had been hoping for. I entertained myself in the gift shop with stuffed Ben Franklin bears and pens that had floating liberty bells inside, while Hilary tried on a variety of colonial hats and garments. We then followed Sixth Street down to Washington Square which despite the cyclist that almost hit Hilary, was surprisingly, even eerily quiet for its location in the middle of the city. While in the park we saw the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, a monument commemorating Revolutionary War soldiers, many of whom were buried in mass graves on the grounds. We sat down on a bench; in the silence of the park I could hear the flags and the eternal flame flipping back and forth with the wind. Before leaving the park we decided on our next destination, Fabric Row, we also decided we would not consult our map in finding it. Rather we headed south and wove through smaller side streets to see what we might find. Not far out of the park we were stopped by a woman who asked us for directions. We told the woman that we were not locals and could offer little more than a map similar to her own. We couldn’t help her, but we were impressed with ourselves- clearly without our map out we looked like locals, we had assimilated to our surroundings well and avoided the stereotypical tourist look of either walking with our heads down in a map and running into people or with our heads up admiring the tall buildings. In our wandering we found Old St. Josephs Church, the oldest Catholic Church in the city, tucked back off of a small alleyway. A large archway led us into the churches courtyard where we stood and could hear to the churches choir practicing. As we began to get closer to Fabric Row we came across a walled cemetery where we met a funny old man on a bicycle who told us of the Native American tribesman and chiefs buried there.

Fabric Row may not be far from the Old City but it has an entirely different atmosphere, one filled with tattoo, skateboard and coffee shops. Before we reached the inner part of Fabric Row with the fabric galleries, cutters and designers we passed by a series of “vintage” thrift stores and other stores in the area surrounding the original fabric row. One thrift shop called Armed and Dangerous was blasting music from the storefront. This outer area of Fabric Row is different and interesting but the true fabric row offers little for travelers unless they are in need of fabric or upholstery. Hilary and I both found this to be true and so continued south for lunch at the world renowned Pat’s King of Steaks.

Philadelphia is known for its cheesesteaks and Pat’s is a Philadelphia institution when it comes to cheesesteaks, certainly not you’re run of the mill cheesesteak joint. Hilary and I went for Pat’s who though lacking the bright and maybe excessive advertising of its competition, Geno’s, claimed to have the better cheesesteak. The line at Pat’s stretched around the corner, as did its neighbors. But the line moved quickly as one man ran the register and shouted orders in short, loud codes, what seemed like an indecipherable language to me and probably everyone else in line. One could not help but be amazed at watching the grill master at work through the plexiglas ordering window. He was taking and completing orders at an astonishing rate. His white Pat’s t-shirt was plastered to his large round stomach with what looked to be a combination of sweat and cheesesteak grease. The Pat’s kitchen ran like clock-work, and it’s safe to say that this chef proved to everyone there that he was truly an expert in his field. We sat down to eat our cheesesteaks at one of the few, highly sought after tables which Hilary had saved for us while I ordered. By the time I unwrapped my cheesesteak the wax paper it was wrapped in was translucent with grease. Three things immediately began to drip out the bottom of my cheesesteak, clear oily grease, a grey mixture of grease and cheese, and cheese whiz that had not reached one of the grease veins of my cheesesteak. I sopped up the run-off material with our french fries, which made for a thoroughly satisfying lunch. The food was delicious just as we had expected, but in reality it was the atmosphere that made the Pat’s cheesesteak experience memorable.

Now that we had gotten our cheesesteak fill we backtracked north to walk through the Italian Market and eventually make our way to the Vietnam War Memorial. After passing through several blocks of residential neighborhood we reached the Italian district. Today this area truly represents metropolitan Philadelphia with a large number of now not only Italian stores but Chinese and Central American stores as well. By the time we reached the market, sales for the day were done and it was being swept and cleaned. We walked under the awnings of shops where the smell of seafood mixed with the scent of boxes and crates being burned in the street. We stopped in DiBruno Brothers, a store that sells oils, cheeses, olives and pasta and then The Spice Corner, which specializes in spices, tea’s and coffee’s and assorted dried fruits. Hilary found a small chocolate shop where we bought half a dozen raspberry, pecan and dark chocolate truffles as a follow up to our cheesesteaks. We found an open table at a café where we took a break to locate ourselves on the map and enjoy the truffles. After a while the sun came out through the clouds, which prompted us to continue up 9^th Street towards the war memorial. When we hit South Street we peered down and were surprised to find that it was somewhat busy with shoppers and visitors even on a cloudy Sunday afternoon. I lent my pen and conversed with a tall, dreadlocked painter on South Street while Hilary poked through one of the neighborhoods many funky, boutiquey clothing stores. After Hilary was done we took 5^th Street further north into Society Hill where we wandered, admiring the many historic Federal and Georgian style homes. Finally we reached the Vietnam memorial where we had planned to end our day and our tour of Philadelphia.

More Than Just a Historic Landmark

Cobblestone streets surrounded Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell center as tourists lined up to see the exhibits that awaited them inside. People waited, somewhat impatiently, staring at the large, numerous sings advertising the displays as the security guards slowly let groups of people into the exhibit. Lines curved around the building and seemed to go on forever. However, while the Liberty Bell is an importance artifact in history, it does not define Philadelphia now. On this trip, we experienced what does define Philadelphia; the diversity that is contained there, represented by the many sections of the city.

Andre and Bridget, my travel companions, and I decided that we would try to get a glimpse of the Liberty Bell as we passed the center, opting out of the 25 minute wait in the line. We walked passed the side of the building, and came upon a small window with a perfect view of the Bell. The two minutes we spent looking at it was the perfect amount of time, and did not come with the obligation of walking through the rest of the exhibit. Once we were content with the Liberty Bell, the next historical site in the area, Independence Hall was our next stop. Again, the line for the walk through the hall seemed to go on forever, so we decided to pass by and continue on our journey. We had planned to next go to Washington Square, the last historic stop we intended to see. Walking into what we though was Washington Square, we were surprised at its emptiness. Not only did this lawn look slightly underdone, but it was completely deserted in contrast to the multitude of people at the Liberty Bell Center. We walked around to the front to see if this was our actually destination only to realize that this lawn was solely the back yard of the Second Bank of the United States. This bank had been turned into a museum of portraits, and the most surprising aspect was the lack of people in the museum. This building was right next door, literally 15 feet away from Independence Hall, yet it seemed so abandoned. It was not that there weren’t people admiring the portraits covering the walls, it was the silence and serenity of the people walking around that made it so out of place. All would silently walk throughout the museum, reading the plastic-covered caption card posted under each portrait and learning about the people who created their history. It was nice to see a place that had amazing facts about our past that had not been taken over by tourism.

Even before reaching any of historical Philadelphia, we had made a stop in Chinatown. Entering through the Friendship Gate, a huge entryway with intricate designs and Chinese writing marking the beginning to Chinatown, the city transformed from tall, dreary, office buildings to small, bright, colorful Chinese shops. The streets were crowded compared to the empty sidewalks just outside of Chinatown while mothers maneuvered through the crowds pulling their children behind. Even we had to be careful to not get lost in the fast pace of the people who walked through the town. As we walked down the sidewalks, we passed by little shops, each having its specialty. Soon, the smell of fish radiated through the streets, and we finally came to the little market selling seafood. People stood attempting to carefully choose their groceries from the rows and rows of fish and other seafood from the open market. This store, displaying fish right out in the open, seemed so different from anything I would expect to see in other sections of the city.

Later, while walking down 6th Street on our way to Mother Bethel AME Church, the atmosphere once again changed with the new diversity of the area. The buildings were no longer stores, offices, or historical sites, but now houses with actual inhabitants. The streets were no longer crowded, and was quaint compared to the chaos of Chinatown and Historic Philadelphia. This church we were on our way to has been owned by African-Americans ever since Richard Allen started it in 1787, and is the piece of property that has been under African-American ownership for the longest time. Passing the church, we read the historical facts about it on the brown wooden sign next to the church, and it seemed the church service had just ended. An older women walked out, and said “Good Morning” to us as she passed, on her way to a younger women and her son a few feet down from us.

From there, we continued to South Street. Walking up and down the street, it appeared to be a popular place to be. We stopped in Jim’s Steaks for a famous Philly Cheesesteak. Although it wasn’t Pat’s or Geno’s, the two places most well known for their cheese steaks, the line for Jim’s filled up the shop and continued outside, so we expected it would be good. No matter how long the line, this was one of the places it was worth waiting for. It was necessary for us to get a taste of Philadelphia, and of course, its signature sandwich. After a good 20 minutes in line, we finally reached the front. Ordering went quickly, as did the actually production of the sandwiches. They formed an assembly line, one man took you order, preparing the bread and cheese. While many, including Bridget and Andre, got cheese whiz on their steaks, I opted for American. He then handed the half-made sandwich to the next man, who placed the roll face down on the thinly chopped meat and scooped it up, adding any additional toppings you requested. Once completed, the sandwich was handed to yet another man who wrapped it in a sandwich wrapper, got you a drink, and placed it on a tray, without a plate of course. Then, you were set to find the staircase in the back of the store and climb the steep stairs to an open seating areas. Although it was crowded, we managed to grab a table and three stools for us to sit on. The walls were lined with autographs and photos of famous people who had eaten, and apparently enjoyed, their own meal at Jim’s.

Finishing our steaks, we decided we would investigate yet another atmosphere in the city by going into the Hyatt hotel. Walking around the lobby, we decided to take a trip up the elevator to get a better look of the place. We pressed the small silver button, awaiting the ding of the bell, signaling the elevator, and stepped through the doors that opened. We were faced with a short women with sneakers on, and two men standing besides their full bags. They had been struggling with the elevator, because none of the buttons would light up, and the elevator stood in place. Standing in the shiny, silver little box crowded with the six of us, we tried to figure out what the problem was. One man said to Bridget, who was eating an apple, “If that’s the only food you’ve got, you may want to make it last, because we may be in here for a while,” in a voice that sounded only half-kidding. Finally someone pushed the huge rectangular lobby button, opening the door, however not getting us to our destination. We decided to try our luck with a different elevator, so we entered the next one that opened, following a younger couple, and being followed by the three we had shared the previous elevator with. Finally, between the eight of us crowded into the elevator, we figured out you needed to enter a room key to be able to press a button. The younger couple pushed their card into the slot, and asked what floors we were traveling to. Andre wanted to see the top floor, so we told them to press the button for floor 26. Surprisingly, floor 26 wouldn’t light up, and since we had no room key, we ended up getting off the elevator with the younger couple, yet became disappointed with the floor. Expecting some sort of view from the city, or at least a window in the hallway, we were surprised to see a bland corridor with numerous white doors everywhere you looked. Disappointed with our exploration of the hotel, we went back down to the lobby, and seeing the time, went to the Vietnam Memorial to end our trip.

Philadelphia, a city I had never really looked closely at before, proved not only to be an interesting city, but also a place with extreme diversity in different sections. Chinatown, Historical Philadelphia, 6th Street, South Street, and even the Hyatt proved to each have their own atmosphere, completely different from all the others. While not the only places to visit in Philadelphia, these spots showed the diversity of the city, and provided us with a good time.

Culture, History, and Cheese Steaks

Any true traveler who visits the Tri-State Area is crazy if they do not see historic Philadelphia. Heading north from Virginia, my travel companions, Andre Ford and Emily Borden, and I decided we needed a break from our Greyhound tour. We asked the bus driver to drop us off by City Hall and come back in a couple of hours. For the next five hours, Andre, Emily, and I would be free from schedules and set destinations. With only a map of Philly and twenty-one dollars each, we embarked on our journey through Philadelphia.

Since Philadelphia is full of culture and history, Andre, Emily, and I decided to balance the two out to obtain the full Philly experience. As we were already in front of City Hall, we decided to explore the area a bit before moving on. Unfortunately, it was a Sunday, and, everything was locked and not open to the public. We were not going to let the cloudy day, drizzle, and locked doors put a damper on our day. Looking at our map, we found that Chinatown was only a couple of blocks away. After heading east on Arch Street and strolling down a couple of blocks, we reached the eye-catching gate of Chinatown. Even though it was a Sunday, the streets were busy with open markets and pedestrians. It was obvious to us there was no such day as a “day of rest” in Chinatown. As we walked up and down the streets, we noticed several fish markets with their “catch” sitting out in the open. To our surprise, hundreds of fish and crabs eyed us as we passed. The further we walked, the more we realized the amount of trust the Chinese population has with themselves and their visitors. We also noticed how fine a job the Philadelphia Chinese did in bringing their home culture across the world to the east coast of the United States. After getting a good taste of this culture, we decided to take a look at our map to see what we could explore next.

As our luck would have it, the most important historical area in the entire United States, Independence Mall, was just down the road from the Friendship Gate of Chinatown. After heading south on 6th Street, then east on Market Street, we reached the Visitors Center of the Mall. Here, we found samplings of what was ahead of us as well as other historical facts. On our way to the Liberty Bell center, I noticed a list of maxims from Poor Richard’s Almanac. One particular quotation caught my eye: “If you would not be forgotten as you are dead and rotten, either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing”. This maxim had both historical and personal meanings. To me, it embodied both what the founding fathers did to form the United States of America and my travels. Since this maxim was worth remembering, I put it in the back of my head and continued on to the Liberty Bell. On our way across the street to the museum, we noticed an extremely long line outside the door. Since our time was limited and we wanted to maximize what we saw, the long line full of tourists with their cameras, shorts paired with high socks, and duck “quackers” from a tour center was not worth the wait. Still wishing to see the Liberty Bell, we decided to improvise and take a trip around the building to the back. Luckily, we came across a wall sized window that separated the present and the past. There we stood in front of the magnificent looking Liberty Bell! Although we were unable to breathe in its copper aroma, being able to see it in real life was rewarding enough. Even though the Liberty Bell is a popular attraction in Philadelphia, there were still many more historical sights to see.

Independence Hall was next on our list of historical sights to see. But, not to our surprise, an even longer line appeared in front of us. Unfortunately, since windows do not surround Independence Hall, we were unable to get a look at the documents that defined the founding of our country. Instead, we decided to take the “road less traveled” to a square right next to the mall. We noticed a magnificent off white building with tall columns in the front. We were pleasantly surprised when we saw a sign saying “OPEN” in the front of the building. When we walked inside, we quickly learned that we had set foot in one of the first banks of the United States. Historians and museum officials did much work to transform the cornerstone of American economics into an exhibit that provided guests with key information about previous bankers who had earlier walked the same path around the complex. After learning a bit about early American economics and its founders, we decided to continue on with our journey, and head toward Washington Square.

When I glanced at the map to the ant-sized Washington Square, I noticed tiny writing that spelled out “Tomb of the Unknown Soldier”. I was a bit confused, since the only Tomb of the Unknown I knew of was in Washington D.C. When we reached the square, the first sight that caught our eye was a statue in the distance with a flame in front of it. As we approached the memorial, we noticed the inscription on the tomb that described how the remains beneath the tomb belonged to one of thousands of soldiers who fought for our freedom in the Revolutionary War. That is the American Revolution of 1775! Andre, Emily, and I were in the presence of a true freedom fighter! After reading the caption, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up as if they wanted to get a closer look! After my lower jaw returned to its closed position while I regained my composure, we decided to explore some Philly culture by heading to the famous South Street.

On our way to South Street, we came across Philadelphia locals, dressed in their Sunday finest, entering and leaving the Mother Bethel AME Church. We knew that since it was Sunday, a holy day of the week, people would be attending church. But this church was not like the others that we had known. In fact, Mother Bethel was the first African American Methodist Episcopal church in the United States! We were all pleased to see that the church is still being used as a place of worship, and has not been transformed into a museum. The people we witnessed entering and exiting the historic church were not only attending a religious service, but also following in the footsteps of their ancestors who walked before them. Since we did not wish to disrupt mass, we continued on to South Street.

Fellow travelers to Philadelphia spoke highly of South Street and its eateries, so we decided we would break to grab a bite of true Philly cuisine. We had walked to the end of South Street at Penn’s Landing, passing what seemed to be hundreds of cheese steak places along the way. After assessing the popularity of various cheese steak joints by the size of lines and signs that read “VOTED BEST CHEESE STEAKS IN ALL OF PHILLY” or “BEST STEAKS ON SOUTH STREET”, we decided to stop at Jim’s Steaks for lunch. The line was just beginning to form out the door, and there were no signs to be found that declared their steaks the best. Boy, were we in for a surprise when we finally made it inside! Pictures of celebrities, from athletes to movie stars and famous musicians, filled up every bit of wall space. After ordering my cheese steak with whiz cheese and no extras, I headed to the top floor dining area. When I finally got a chance to take a bite, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. One bite did it for me! I did not care what the signs of other restaurants said, Jim’s had the BEST cheese steaks in all of Philly! All of the “cheese steaks” that I had eaten before could not even compare to the one I was eating at Jim’s. All my life, I had been lied to when eating so-called Philly cheese steaks. First of all, the only place to get Philly cheese steaks is not in your grocer’s freezer, but in the one and only Philadelphia, PA. Also, you have not had a Philly cheese steak unless you have had one from Jim’s! Even after I finished my sandwich, I was fishing for words to describe its deliciousness. After enjoying every last crumb, Andre looked at his watch and realized that the bus would be back to pick us up in twenty minutes. Since we just wanted to relax after such a hardy meal, and Jim’s was a crowded place at 2:00 PM on a Sunday afternoon, we offered our table to other hungry customers, and headed back towards Penn’s Landing to find a place to sit down.

As we reached the dock at Penn’s Landing, the cold winds picked up and it started to drizzle again. We noticed a Hyatt Hotel in the distance, so we headed in its direction. The hotel management, dressed in grey suits that matched the clouds in the sky, must have thought we were guests as they graciously held the door for us when we entered the lobby. We were quick to sit on the cloud-like sofas and chairs found there. After a few minutes, Andre decided he wanted to see the “penthouse” on the top floor, if one existed. Emily and I, not wanting to miss out on any adventure, were quick to follow. When we entered the elevator, we were greeted by a friendly couple, Ben and Susan. Both were obviously in town for business since Ben was dressed in a black three piece suit with a bright red tie, and Susan a blue blazer and skirt. After letting them know what floor we were headed to, we shared an interesting conversation about traveling. They were from New York, visiting Philadelphia for a conference, but also wanted to explore the city. Once we told them that we were traveling from Virginia up to Maine, stopping and doing some sight seeing on the way, they enthusiastically brought up that they were travelers themselves! During this two minute conversation, we realized the elevator had not moved an inch. As I took a bite out of whatever was left of my apple, Ben jokingly said, “you better save that for later, we might be stuck here for a while. In fact, you might even have to share with all of us!” We all let out a good laugh, but then thought, could we really be stuck? When I pressed the “lobby” button, the doors opened, and we quickly changed elevators. After the same problem occurred in the second elevator, Susan decided to read the directions, and realized that we needed our key cards to operate the elevators. Since we did not have one, we decided to stay along for the ride and head to any floor our new found friends were going to. When we reached the fourteenth floor, we bid them farewell and best of luck on their travels. Although we did not get as high as floor twenty six, fourteen was enough. We were able to return to the lobby on the same elevator, just in time to call the bus driver to come pick us up.

As we boarded the Greyhound, we felt accomplished in our journey. We found our balance of culture and history, and enjoyed a few laughs along the way. Even after our stomachs had been digesting our cheese steaks for twenty minutes, we could not get them off our minds. Overall, our decision to explore Philadelphia was rewarding, and definitely one for the books. Following the maxim from Poor Richards Almanac, my experience was definitely “worth writing”!

The Deeper Part of Hightstown

Although I had lived in Hightstown for three years I had never really been to Hightstown. All I had really seen is Main Street with its expensive houses and nice cars. Through the gates of our well known school we walked out into new open ground. Walking at a brisk pace we went past the first light and turned right at the familiar Theo’s restaurant. A bird house caught my eye in someone’s yard, and I just stopped and looked at it for a while, just starring. It was a six foot tall sand castle with five turrets jetting out in all different directions with this shiny green snake interwoven through the castle leaving me to think only one thing, “What the hell.”

The houses continuously got smaller as we moved away from main street, and one house had an “Open” sign on it. Curious as to why this house would have an open sign I peered into the window and saw that it actually was a little shop. Now I had always heard on the radio and through local New Jersians that there were a lot of Hispanics that couldn’t speak English. I had always doubted that fact because everyone that I had ever met had spoken English, but when I went in and asked if I could get something wrapped up and put in a box, she starred in bewilderment and started speaking Spanish to her younger daughter. Normally I would have become impatient very quickly but I waited it out and she said, “Forty five minutes”. I had successfully bought something for Mother’s Day through the language barrier.

Time was getting short and we decided to walk to the fabled broken down yellow mansion. The street was called Bank Street, and it was as if a street from Philly was dropped down into Hightstown. On the left there was a huge deserted warehouse with the old fashioned broken glass in all the windows and the rusty siding with scattered two by fours randomly placed on the walls. The right side of this road was barren with a broken down house and litter on the grass, with no signs of life whatsoever. No cars passed by us for the first time on our journey, as if the community shunned this street. Walking slower as we approached the mustard yellow house which was dying with age, we seemed to be solidified at the point on the sidewalk that was farthest away from it. I decided I wanted to see their Mercedes that I heard about, and so I strolled over into the driveway and saw an old black Mercedes convertible with a half pulled off black tarp over the car. This broken down house that lives on this desolate street has some expensive cars, and at that point I laughed back to the sidewalk where I took in the sights of the house again. I noticed things that I hadn’t at first glance: there was a beautiful green house with roses in the corner, magnificent golden doorknockers, and the gate. The gate which I initially saw as black and jagged also had gold throughout it, and then I noticed how the gold came to together at many points to form golden hearts. Again, this house brought a smile to me from its surprises.

Heading back to Peddie, I noticed the familiar cop that hangs out in the Wachovia bank parking lot. This guy was no Rent-a-Cop, he had the guns, the cuffs, everything, and I decided this would be the perfect opportunity to strike up a conversation with a person I’ve seen many times but never talked to before. Initially I was a little nervous talking to this guy, but I quickly found the conversation to be an interesting and fun one. We started talking about which places are safe in New Jersey, but then got onto a subject we both had strong feelings about, the shoot to harm policy that was thrown into the air by some politicians. We had a nice conversation and we both concluded that those politicians don’t know what the hell they are doing and left it at that. Walking back to Peddie I recapped all that happened and I was glad that throughout the journey I had stepped outside of what I normally would have done and looked a little deeper into what was around me.

Exploring Hightstown

I’ve spent three years living almost year-round in Hightstown. NJ, and yet, through this trip, I became conscious of the fact that I had never really seen the town. On that warm Friday afternoon, Warren and I walked out of the Peddie gates ready to begin our journey. When we first walked down Main Street, I was familiar with my most of my surroundings, however I was excited and ready to explore places I had not yet seen. We walked farther down main street, passing shops I had never seemed to notice before, although I had walked that same route many times. I realized that although I had been down this street before, I had never taken the opportunity, or the time, to look at what was right in front of me. Nevertheless, we continued down the road.

Our first goal was to get to the yellow house on bank street we had heard so much about. I had heard from more than one person about this ‘haunted house.’ I pictured it as a broken down house with a long, winding, gravel driveway. It would have broken glass windows and it would be dark and cloudy all around it at all times of the day. I was anxiously waiting to see the house and to find out how close my imagination came to what it truly looked like. As we walked past the lake, nearing the Hightstown Fire Station, Warren pointed out the huge wall that read “Historical Hightstown” with a few dates written on it. Neither of us had really noticed the size and greatness of the wall, or at least the grandeur of the writing, so I hoped it was fairly new. We found Bank Street and started walking towards the house. However, there was something even more interesting on that street. On the left side, all down the road, was an abandoned warehouse. We tried to peer in to see if it was still being used, or to see if we could tell what it was ever used for, but we couldn’t see too much because most of the windows were patched with wood. I assumed it wasn’t being used, that it was just an old building they had never gotten around to taking down.

We finally reached the house I had heard so much about. It wasn’t exactly how I had pictured it, but my imagination had gone a bit wild. The house was broken down, and the right side of the house seemed like it was about to fall off. Bushes and trees overflowed into the yard as if they were shielding the house. The windows were covered with plastic sheeting and there was an iron fence surrounding the property. The one thing that really surprised me was the cat sitting in the corner of the yard. It may not have actually belong to the people in the house, but the presence of life in such a broken down place amazed me. It was so empty, void of activity and so isolated, yet there was this one small animal to give it hope. Once we left the house we walked down another road and discovered the backside of the warehouse we had passed before. However, this side had cars parked in the lot and people inside the building. Warren made me aware of the fact that this was the same broken down, secluded building, yet from this other angle, it was a completely normal building.

We continued on our journey through Hightstown, traveling towards the turnpike to explore the neighborhoods on that side of the town. While not extremely unique, many of the houses were had interesting qualities to them. Most of the ones we passed were painted in various colors, but a few stood out to me. On one side of the town, there were two houses right next to each other, both with small figures and statues surrounding the house and throughout the yard. However, my favorite house had a tree right in front of it. However, the tree was cut down so only about five feet of the trunk remained. The trunk was carved into the shape of a castle with a snake winding through it. While I have no idea why the owners chose to carve that in front of their house, I found the detail and care put into making it amazing.

Once we had seen many of the houses in Hightstown, we went to a small store off of Main Street. In the midst of talking with the women who was working there at the time, the yellow, haunted house on Bank Street came up. She told us that she knew of the house, and she also referred to it as the ‘haunted house,’ and told us what she knew about it. I was somewhat surprised that she knew of the house and considered it haunted like many others. It amazed me that so many knew of this house, yet I had never heard of it before this past week, and it made me realize that I really did not know as much about Hightstown as I thought I did. Warren and I said goodbye to the woman in the store, and decided to take a few minutes to write down our experiences in our travel notebook. Once we returned to the Peddie campus. This journey we had just completed really showed me the value in taking a closer look at places you may feel you know. I now knew that Hightstown was more than just Mannino’s and Slowdown, and that there are many amazing things about Hightstown, that were right in front of me the whole time, and I may never have seen them if I did not take the opportunity to look.