There's no place like home.
Past
So, this weekend we jaunted off to slightly-snowy Philadelphia. I think Philly gets a bad rap-I really like it as a small city. It's like a little Brooklyn unto itself. Well, maybe it's a mix of hipster Brooklyn and old-school Bronx, as one afternoon walk took us through the 9th Street Italian Market to an Art Deco bakery where a man played the tarantella on the accordion while shoppers picked up pignoli, amaretti, musticiolli, and pasticinni cookies along with that strange kind of Italian Easter cake that has hard-boiled eggs braided into the crust. (A secret about me: I don't really like Italian cookies. I went for the fudge-dipped pound-cake decorated to look like an Easter egg.)
The real reason for the visit to Philadelphia was not, of course, the bakery. It was King Tut, which I'd recommend to any fan of the Egypt room at the Met. The items in the exhibition were 3,000-plus years old, but looked like they'd be ready for sale at Pier 1 tomorrow. And I can't even keep my bedroom dust-free for a week! Admission to King Tut meant we could roam the rest of the Franklin Institute for free, so we walked through the model of the human heart that looked like it was probably totally cool in the 80's, then headed over to the Hall of Electricity to behold the Wonders of Alternating Current.
As Jesse mentioned, or trip home took an unplanned detour through beautiful downtown Camden, New Jersey. Between driving through Berea on our trip to Baltimore, Newark on our way home from Milford, and Camden on our way home from Philly, we've made sure that we've passed through pretty much the worst neighborhoods nearest our travel destinations. So don't call us totally bourgie.
We finally made it out of Camden, and through the complete anarchy that was the Goethals Bridge (and people wonder why I have something against New Jersey), to my aunt's house in Staten Island to deliver the aforementioned Easter cake and hang out with all the babies on that side of my family. If you guys want to learn some good songs about dinosaurs, let me know. Driving around Staten Island is a strange sensation because I've been going there my whole life but I've never had to drive myself, and we moved off the island before I had my license. Names and places are so familiar, but I can't tell you how to get from one to the next. It's like trying to retrace your steps through a dream you once had. Getting from SI to Brooklyn is a cinch-except the part where we accidentally wound up taking a tour around BAM because of a wrong turn, but that area is no where near as sketchy as Newark-so after a few trips I'm sure I'll get my bearings.
Present
It is nice to be home. This whole three-road-trips-in-five-weeks thing was really starting to take its toll. I didn't think I'd miss my dusty shower, my bulging hamper, or my empty fridge after just a couple of weekend jaunts, but I totally did. When you're not at your apartment for the weekend, the feeling is akin to missing a night of sleep.
My feet are firmly planted in Brooklyn-for now. The possibility of a trip to Boston has opened up-Jesse's friend is throwing a party with some of his housemates-and it's looking like we might go. (Beantown Wes kids, stay tuned-I'll let you know as soon as I do what the details are.) Then, the very next week, we have plans to spend the weekend in Saratoga, so it'll be another one-two punch of traveling on consecutive weekends. After that, you're going to need a wheelbarrow and the Jaws of Life to get me to leave again.
Future
I am going to these concerts:
Palomar at The Mercury Lounge
Art Brut at Studio B (around the corner from my apartment!)
Jarvis Cocker (!) at Webster Hall
The Arcade Fire at United Palace Theatre
The Decemberists at Summerstage
The Hold Steady at Prospect Park
Some of these are sold out, some are not, and The Hold Steady hasn't even gone on sale yet. If you'd like to join me at any of these shows, e-mail me and I'll give you details.
Or, if you have no interest in any of these shows but haven't hung out with me in a while, e-mail me so we can make plans. I fear I'm becoming a hermit. I'm sure I miss you. If you shoot me a message, I promise I'll make time for you in-between all the traveling, concerts, and stubborn refusals to leave my apartment.
So, this weekend we jaunted off to slightly-snowy Philadelphia. I think Philly gets a bad rap-I really like it as a small city. It's like a little Brooklyn unto itself. Well, maybe it's a mix of hipster Brooklyn and old-school Bronx, as one afternoon walk took us through the 9th Street Italian Market to an Art Deco bakery where a man played the tarantella on the accordion while shoppers picked up pignoli, amaretti, musticiolli, and pasticinni cookies along with that strange kind of Italian Easter cake that has hard-boiled eggs braided into the crust. (A secret about me: I don't really like Italian cookies. I went for the fudge-dipped pound-cake decorated to look like an Easter egg.)
The real reason for the visit to Philadelphia was not, of course, the bakery. It was King Tut, which I'd recommend to any fan of the Egypt room at the Met. The items in the exhibition were 3,000-plus years old, but looked like they'd be ready for sale at Pier 1 tomorrow. And I can't even keep my bedroom dust-free for a week! Admission to King Tut meant we could roam the rest of the Franklin Institute for free, so we walked through the model of the human heart that looked like it was probably totally cool in the 80's, then headed over to the Hall of Electricity to behold the Wonders of Alternating Current.
As Jesse mentioned, or trip home took an unplanned detour through beautiful downtown Camden, New Jersey. Between driving through Berea on our trip to Baltimore, Newark on our way home from Milford, and Camden on our way home from Philly, we've made sure that we've passed through pretty much the worst neighborhoods nearest our travel destinations. So don't call us totally bourgie.
We finally made it out of Camden, and through the complete anarchy that was the Goethals Bridge (and people wonder why I have something against New Jersey), to my aunt's house in Staten Island to deliver the aforementioned Easter cake and hang out with all the babies on that side of my family. If you guys want to learn some good songs about dinosaurs, let me know. Driving around Staten Island is a strange sensation because I've been going there my whole life but I've never had to drive myself, and we moved off the island before I had my license. Names and places are so familiar, but I can't tell you how to get from one to the next. It's like trying to retrace your steps through a dream you once had. Getting from SI to Brooklyn is a cinch-except the part where we accidentally wound up taking a tour around BAM because of a wrong turn, but that area is no where near as sketchy as Newark-so after a few trips I'm sure I'll get my bearings.
Present
It is nice to be home. This whole three-road-trips-in-five-weeks thing was really starting to take its toll. I didn't think I'd miss my dusty shower, my bulging hamper, or my empty fridge after just a couple of weekend jaunts, but I totally did. When you're not at your apartment for the weekend, the feeling is akin to missing a night of sleep.
My feet are firmly planted in Brooklyn-for now. The possibility of a trip to Boston has opened up-Jesse's friend is throwing a party with some of his housemates-and it's looking like we might go. (Beantown Wes kids, stay tuned-I'll let you know as soon as I do what the details are.) Then, the very next week, we have plans to spend the weekend in Saratoga, so it'll be another one-two punch of traveling on consecutive weekends. After that, you're going to need a wheelbarrow and the Jaws of Life to get me to leave again.
Future
I am going to these concerts:
Palomar at The Mercury Lounge
Art Brut at Studio B (around the corner from my apartment!)
Jarvis Cocker (!) at Webster Hall
The Arcade Fire at United Palace Theatre
The Decemberists at Summerstage
The Hold Steady at Prospect Park
Some of these are sold out, some are not, and The Hold Steady hasn't even gone on sale yet. If you'd like to join me at any of these shows, e-mail me and I'll give you details.
Or, if you have no interest in any of these shows but haven't hung out with me in a while, e-mail me so we can make plans. I fear I'm becoming a hermit. I'm sure I miss you. If you shoot me a message, I promise I'll make time for you in-between all the traveling, concerts, and stubborn refusals to leave my apartment.