Day 12 – Philly part 1

‘The impulse to travel is one of the hopeful symptoms of life’.

I walked out of my apartment to snow.
Finally the weather app has told the truth! However it is goodbye New York, thank you for a fantastic time, even with the extra day it whizzed by. I had hoped that packing so much in would stretch out the hours and the days and I guess it did a bit, but sadly nowhere near approaching the halcyon days of my youth, when each day seemed to last forever and the holidays  stretched endlessly into the distance.

Right enough of that! I’m on the 12.05 to Philadelphia. It’s only approximately 2 hours  and I can’t wait to see a new place. Philadelphia is old, by American standards, it is the birthplace of independence and home to the Liberty bell, but more of that tomorrow.

It is also home to the Italian Stallion, Rocky Balboa and the famous Philly Cheesesteak among many other historic sights and monuments.

Arriving at the bus depot, I seem to have lost my bearings a bit, it took me a couple of minutes to work out where I was going. There are little roads and alleys that crisscross  everywhere around here.

Finally orientated, I set off for the Warwick Hotel, off Rittenhouse square. It’s well situated and rather posh. I suspect in the summer it would be quite a lot more expensive. The lobby boast faux open fires, high ceilings, big sofa’s and some lovely prose and poetic musings on the walls.

The room is lovely and the bed huge, you need an intercom to speak to the person on the other side.

What’s not so great is that ‘Due to ‘Covid’  there is no maid service. If you want new linen they will deliver it to your door, but you have to make the bed yourself. When I spoke to reception about it I said ‘Ah yes Covid, the gift that keeps on giving’ She agreed with me and in doing so rather missed the somewhat sarcastic point of my comment. It is, of course, just an excuse for them to save money. Every other hotel I’ve stayed at on this trip so far has made the room up each day. Still they do have a laundry room, so I’m back to 4 clean outfits again!

Then it was straight out to lunch at Monks bar, a Belgian beer hideout with over 25 beers on tap and another 200 or in bottles. The Westmalle triple was good as always and the first draft ale I tried was Russian river happy hops, (odd name, but hey ho!) I’m trying to remember what on earth I had to eat as I am writing this a couple of days later. Apologies, I am getting behind! Oh now I remember, a pulled jerk chicken sandwich, which was very spicy and tasty.

They did have Moules frites on the menu, but those of you that know me well will understand why I didn’t go for that.

The city is quite compact and there is some great architecture here that dates back to well before the foundation of the United States.

I spent several hours wandering around enjoying the sights. It’s cold and my scarf is wrapped firmly around my face as I walk the streets. There are plenty of people out and about and there is a skating rink in the middle of a square, as there seems to be in many of these northerly  cities in the winter. Some of the skaters were really good, doing jumps and whizzing backwards.

Dinner was at an upmarket Pizzeria. It wasn’t busy despite it being a Friday night. The pizza was superb, light and crispy and rather large at 16 inches.

Big sightseeing day tomorrow.