The streets are narrow and crowded with parked cars. The skies are grey. A light mist falls. It’s cool but not cold. The color seems to have drained from the city as if everything has been coated in a thin film of charcoal. Philly has often been described a gritty city – both in terms of its plucky determination and street vibe as well as its physical grit and grime. The bright orange amorphous and furry hockey team’s mascot is named Gritty. Visit Philadelphia has run a marketing campaign, “Love + Grit.”
In a strange way, I’ve missed it. The grittiness, the streets, the accents and attitudes. In a strange way, I appreciate it more now that I’m back… like I still belong here, like this is still my town. Conversely, my trip to Philly has me feeling deeply appreciative of that colorful, sunny, and less gritty city I call home, San Francisco.
Coming back to Philly these last few years (from Memphis or State College or San Francisco) has always been colored with reverie. So many places in the Philly region hold memories for me. Today, I got the chance to revisit some of those memories when, as though issued from the newly reformed Scrooge shouting out the open window, I had been asked to pick up the Christmas roast from the market in town. I chose to walk – which filled my parents with minor anxiety. Won’t it be too cold for you? Isn’t it too far? Isn’t it going to rain? 40 degrees felt manageable – I have layers. The shop was less than two miles away (I walk at least two miles every day in San Francisco). The rain, had mostly cleared out.
Dressed in my typical SF uniform, thermal shirt, blue Vans flannel, black hoodie, and beanie, I made my way to Passyunk Ave. (generally pronounce PASH-yunk, but the heavy Philly accent will sound more like PASS-ee-yunk). Passyunk is one of the diagonal streets that cuts across the square grid of South Philadelphia’s streets. It’s a commercial corridor with lots of restaurants and shops. One of it’s more famous intersections, where it crosses 9th Street near the Italian Market, hosts the two iconic cheesesteak shops, Pat’s and Geno’s.
Initially, I thought, walking would be nice because I never really spent much time on Passyunk. But as I walked, I realized I had spent more time there than I remembered. I passed a garden shop where an ex and I went Christmas shopping for her family. I passed a pizza shop where I vaguely remember a date and I ended up after a night of bar hopping. I passed the bar where the bar hopping started. Near the market where the roast waited, I passed shops and restaurants that I had visited on various occasions. After getting the roast, I walked on for a bit. I crossed Fitzwater Street where one of my best friends had lived, then walked past Ralph’s, which claims to be the country’s oldest Italian restaurant (San Francisco’s Fior d’Italia makes the same claim). I think my ex-wife got really sick from a meal we had Ralph’s.
In addition to reacquainting myself with the area, I found myself comparing it to life in San Francisco. As I walked, I kept looking down expecting to see the street names stamped into the curbs at the intersections – a very helpful thing that San Francisco does. I also had to be much more alert in the crosswalks – the drivers in Philly are nowhere near as accommodating to, or patient with pedestrians. On more than one occasion, I was about to cross the street and the car at the stop sign rushed through first. I also found myself wanting to pop into small and cozy bars for an Irish Coffee or similar toasty libation. That’s something that I see here far more often than I do in California. The cold gray northeast weather makes such venues quite appealing in the winter. I used to complain about Pennsylvania winters. Now, I find them a little endearing and only mildly annoying.
By the time I got back to the house, I felt like I had a bit of what Vonnegut describes as “one hell of a good time” when he talks about going out to buy an envelope. I felt like I was in a Busytown book. But more than anything, it felt like this was the break I needed – still comfortable in familiar but different scenery.