Stories from Philadelphia
Famous last words. Guys, it is
not
always sunny in Philadelphia.
On the first day we were greeted by rain. And not the gentle, polite kind. The kind that comes down in violent sheets, so that you can't see more than a foot in front of you and you're soaked through to the skin in seconds. As a result, it was hard to get a real feel for our new city that morning. We grabbed coffee and wove quickly through the streets, heads down. But some things did manage to grab our attention - European-style three story houses collected together in rows. Vendors and restaurants alike proclaiming themselves to have "the best cheese steaks in Philly". Beautiful murals appearing, unexpected and intriguing, on the sides of buildings. It soon became apparent that Philly was a place with a lot to say. Stories to tell.
In terms of size, I'd put it somewhere in between New York and Boston. The skyline has the same built-up, almost claustrophobic quality as New York, but with a dash of subversiveness added to the mix - in the line-up you'll find a tower that looks like a flash drive, one without any right angles and a inconspicuous green dome topped by a mysterious figure - the founder of the town, William Penn. It's against the law to build anything in front of his face, so the city hall he adorns stands out like a defiant relic from a bygone era, looking photoshopped into a tableau of shiny glass and modern steel.
Shortly after arriving, we were informed that the best way to navigate the city was by foot. This meant that we spent a lot of time pounding pavements, forging our own map through Philly's streets. Dashing through the rain on that first morning, we sought refuge in the Franklin Institute, before heading to the Eastern State Penitentiary.
For some, visiting an old prison might not sound like their idea of a good time. But I love places that are a little bit weird, atmospheric, macabre... so this ancient fortress, distinctive for its castle-esque battlements and wheel structure, was right up my street. It's also the famous jail from Monopoly - which was invented here in Philly. As we wandered around its dank, gloomy hallways and old cells, guided by the dulcet tones of Steve Buschemi, we saw where inmates were kept in solitary confinement in pursuit of repentance.
The storm raged on outside, rain hammering the old stone.
I thought about the lives of each person who'd had to, at some point, call this freezing prison home - what their stories might have been. The halls echoed with their forgotten voices. As if reading my mind, a sign in front of one of the exhibits read: "if ghosts live anywhere, it's surely here".
By the time we'd finished, it was late afternoon. When you're soaked and cold to the bone, there's really only one thing for it. Go to 7 Eleven. Spend $20 on snacks, and hole up in your room with True Detective. Which, by the way - and this has nothing to do with Philadelphia - is one of the best things I've watched in a long time. Matthew McConaughey you genius.
Thankfully, it didn't rain for our entire time in Philly. A freezing but bright morning the next day revealed to us all the little details we'd missed the day before. We took a tour around the city to get our bearings, taking in the sprawling Fairmount Park, the proud statue of Rocky Balboa next to the iconic Rocky Steps, and the grave of inventor and all round Philly good guy Benjamin Franklin. We learned that despite it's polished, tourist-friendly exterior, Philadelphia is more fragile than it looks. Only 30-40 years ago this original Quaker city was more like a hollowed-out shell, declining and advised-against. So many of what are now the city's most impressive buildings and prosperous districts were abandoned and destitute. It took a new city planner (Kevin Bacon's dad, no less - what a family) to rethink Philadelphia's future and bring it back to life. Which is a good job, because a town like this being empty seemed like a hell of a waste. Home to icons of American independence such as Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, it's the American capital of culture and the birthplace of many modern ideals.
One of which has to be the Philly Cheese Steak. Order a "whiz wit" and you'll be handed a chewy white baguette filled with strips of salty, tender beef mixed with sweet fried onions, smothered in molten, mustard-coloured cheese. It's even better than it sounds. So good, in fact, we had two in two days: the best was from the iconic Pat's - where outdoor seating meant that we demolished our steaks in record time, licking creamy cheese from chilly fingers as they have done since 1930.
I don't need you to tell me how many calories is likely to be in a cheese steak. I'm at peace with it. I'm just hoping that the miles and miles we walked through Philadelphia went some way towards burning them off. It was during our walks from place to place that the city's many murals attracted our attention. The city of Philadelphia is a giant canvas - there are over 3,500 murals scrawled across it's walls.
"The murals are clues," explained our tour guide, wearing a mysterious grin, "they point to things which are here, but which you can't yet see".
Some are obvious; outside the zoo, animal prints and silhouettes abound on pillars and bridges. Others, less so. Haunted faces stare out at you - asking, challenging.
For me, the murals summed up Philly. There's so many stories here, secret and silent, rumbling currents under the surface, tying together a fascinating history with a promising future. You couldn't possibly hope to know them all. But you can pass through, enjoy the ride - and possibly indulge in a cheese steak or two.
