Friday, May 1, 2009

Philadelphia

Despite living relatively near Philadelphia all of my life, the city was completely foreign to me. This thought didn’t sink in until I stepped off the bus and saw City Hall for the first time. My partner, Mike Tully, and I began our journey from there, only taking moments to adjust to the smell of cigarettes and gasoline. I did not know Mike that well before I traveled with him. In one sense I was on my own, but in a more realistic sense I was far from it. Anything important to the trip was in my backpack or in my pockets: I had my phone, a map of Philly, and $17. While planning the trip, there were only two specific stores that we wanted to see: Geno’s Steaks (the best place to get a cheese steak in Philly) and Pat’s King of Steaks (the second best place, conveniently right across the street from Geno’s). Other than that, we planned on walking through some of the well known areas of the city and meeting genuine Philadelphians. With such a thought in mind, we made our way northeast toward Chinatown.

Chinatown was even more than we expected it to be. While it was physically smaller than we though it would be, it had more than enough culture for the both of us. Colorful signs crowded every inch of every building. People swarmed the side walks like ants. After getting used to the change of atmosphere, we looked for people to try to talk to, so we could get information about the area. We met a fortune teller on a street corner. He knew how to say four words in English, “Fortune, 5 dollar,” and “ok.” It was impossible to communicate with him, he was not interested in trying to understand our questions. However, he did point at me and then hand me a card that read “Round Nose = Doctor.” I wondered to myself if I knew what the card actually said of if he just picked them at random. After thanking him, we continued our walk. I tried to ask a lady shelling peanuts on the curb what she was doing, but she got very mad at me. There were three men outside a dentists office, smoking cigarettes and making incense. We introduced ourselves to them and asked what they thought of the area. After looking at us for a moment, they all started laughing. Mike and I started laughing. In seconds, we were laughing hysterically at each other without any idea as to why. It was difficult to adapt to the environment. Mike and I spoke English and Spanish, and we were only able to find one store owner who spoke English in all of Chinatown. Soon, we decided to leave Chinatown and head through the Historical Parks down to South Street.

South Street was the place to be. It seemed endless, store after store, restaurant after restaurant. We walked into whichever shop seemed the most Philadelphian, and we kept our minds open. One un-showered man even decided to come talk to us: I was in a Duke sweatshirt and he asked me how the basketball team was doing in the NCAA. He was so excited to hear good news, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that the tournament had been over for weeks and that Duke had lost. “All the way, this is the year,” I said. He danced off down the street. In a Record Exchange, we met a man named Mike Franklin. When we asked him about his thoughts about the city, he said “I hate the school systems here,” without looking up. His body language told us to leave. Next we looked at a thrift shop. A few teenage kids were working there, all with excessive facial piercings. A girl named Stephanie seemed nervous about us being there. She kept asking why we wanted to know about Philly, and we kept telling her about our trip. Sooner or later she became too busy to talk and we left. It seemed that once people found out that we were not buying anything, they didn’t want us in their shops. But we were not disheartened, because it was at this point that we ran into Lamont. Lamont was sitting in a collapsible beach chair at the entrance to an alleyway. He was an African American man and wore golden sunglasses and a flowered button down shirt. In front of his chair, there was a cardboard sign that bore “MAGIC SHOW,” written in marker. He was a man a few words.

“Excuse me sir, we’re from out of the area and we were wondering if you could tell us a few things about the area.”

“…ok…”

“How do you like Philly?”

“Is this an interview?”

“No… we just want to get to know this place a little better.”

“Ok…My name is …… Lamont.”

“Thanks, Lamont. How long have you been doing your magic shows?”

“You’re talking to the wrong man.”

I think he was selling drugs. But he was a genuine Philadelphian, and he helped us to understand where we were a little bit better. The walking had made us hungry, and we headed for the happiest place in the town: The Italian Market.

The walk was long. From South Street we went south on 9th street until we reached Passyunk avenue. We finally reached Geno’s Steaks. The line wrapped all the way around the entire building. Mike and I waited in line, talking with the man behind us in line, whose name was Rich. He and his son lived in Gloster City, NJ. They had drove into Philly for lunch. Out of all of the people we met in Philly, Rich was probably the friendliest. We were waiting in line for 20 minutes before we were in the front. The man in the apron quickly asked me “with or without?” I said, “cheese steak…?” He stopped punching buttons and looked up at me. After his slowest order of the day, I had my cheese steak. It was delicious. For the first time in Philly, I felt like I had adapted to my environment. I was totally relaxed, enjoying the amazing food, and appreciating the characters I had the pleasure of meeting. After many awkward encounters and conversations, I felt like I had truly experienced Philadelphia.

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