The old me

— Photo by ML

I am slowly disassembling the "old" me piece by piece. Some changes are voluntary, some are not. Some changes are quite profound and often very difficult, while other changes are trivial and should have been done a long time ago. The most visible change is, of course, material: I have a lot less "stuff". In fact, I have almost no stuff left.

The strange thing, though, is that I don't really care. Come to think of it, that alone is a profound change in my personality. Sure, losing it all was rather painful, at least initially. After all, we're talking about big things like cars, house, furniture, and other "stuff" that one accumulates over several years. And it didn't happen over night, or due to some freak weather incident or fire. No, it happened because of my divorce, and I was actually "awake" the whole time.

Photo by ML

This is my favorite coffee shop in my neighborhood. It's a quirky, comfortable, non-Starbucksy, worn (but not tired!) coffee shop. The decor looks thrown-together (and I think that's how it actually was done), and it's really the opposite of a Cosi or Starbucks.

I come here off and on to chill out. The coffee is great, and while I haven't tried all of the baked goods, the things I have tried (mostly muffins and bagels), have always been good. And, by the way, wi-fi here actually works!

This place is located on a main tourist drag — on Chestnut between 2nd and 3rd Street — so, depending on season and time of day, you may run into some fanny-pack-people. But it doesn't happen very often, and they don't seem to linger very long.

That's it for now. On to the next place!

-martin.

Photo by Hani Amir

So you meet someone and you click right away. You have never met this person before, yet there is something very familiar about this person. You are both similar, but not identical. The two of you keep meeting almost every day, and you talk, text, email, and IM every day.

You have similar life experiences and similar likes and dislikes, but, again, you are not identical. You are different enough for it to be exiting, but not enough for it to be jarring. You naturally agree on the broad strokes, and find it easy to compromise on the details.

It feels as if you have known each other for a very long time, yet it has only been a few weeks. And you are already very comfortable with each other — the kind of "comfortable" that can take a very long time to build up.

Photo by ML

Another pizza joint in my neighborhood. And yes, there are a few more, and yes, I will visit them all as part of this highly scientific study. Actually, this place is on Market Street itself — can you say "tourist trap"? — and the place is definitely a bit more hype than substance. The prices have also been adjusted upwards to reflect the prestigious location, but, unfortunately, the food has not.

I have been here a few times, and while the food is ok:ish, it's nothing to write home about. The location is convenient, and if you have a craving ... sure, why not. I've had a few of their slices and also the Soho Cheesesteak. I'm sure there will be a "next time", but probably only because it's on my way from some place and because I'm too lazy to walk around the block to some other joint.

So, that's it for now. On to the next place!

-martin.

Photo by ML

I had been walking by here many times before I stopped in the first time. Not sure why it took so long, but I'm making up for it now. This is a very unpretentious pizza joint. The menu is a sloppy photocopy of photocopies. But hey, who cares as long as the food is good.

This place will never be Zagat-rated, but trust me, when you have a craving for a slice or two, or a whole pie, or you just have to have a cheesesteak, then you can't go wrong with this place. Sure, there are plenty of places like this, especially around here, but this one is above average and the prices are ok.

So far I've had a few of their slices and the cheesesteak with peppers. Personally I lean towards the cheesesteaks, but that's more because I'm not a huge pizza fan in general. Next time I go there, I'll try one of their hoagies.

So, that's it for now. On to the next place!

-martin.

Photo by Alvimann

I have been walking around my Philadelphia neighborhood quite a bit since I moved here not too long ago. And the one thing that has struck me the most is just how many galleries, coffee shops, restaurants, and bars there are around here. Of course, it's not really a surprise since I picked this neighborhood exactly for that reason. But it's only after walking around here that I've come to realize just how many places there are.

Now, I also really like food — both to eat and to cook — and I'm also one who willing to try pretty much anything at least once "just because". Add to that a pinch of "geek", 2tbsp of "wannabe writer", and a healthy dose of "amateur food critic" and you can understand how I came up with the idea of the Eatery Project.

The premise is simple: visit every establishment that serves food and/or drink and falls within an area defined North and South by Arch Street and Chestnut Street, and East and West by Front Street and 4th Street. And if you know anything about this area in Philadelphia, then you can understand how ambitious this project really is — there must be at least a hundred or so establishments in this area.

Wish you were here

— Photos by ML

Out of the blue she asked: "Dad, why do you travel so much?" I had called her, like I do every evening, to ask her about her day and, of course, to wish her a good night. She's 5, or more specifically — and she would insist — she's "five and a half!" I have traveled quite a bit her whole life, but it seems to bother her much more now after the divorce.

When I'm not traveling I work from home, and before the divorce that meant she'd see me every day. Now I can only see her every other weekend, and I don't think she quite understands that the reason for us not getting together as often anymore is not that I travel so much more than before — it only seems that way to her. Her much older sister is handling this differently, or maybe I'm misreading the cues. She's a teenager, and I doubt I'd be the first dad misreading his teenage daughter (or son for that matter).

Boxes Piled High

— Photos by ML

I have too much stuff! Too much stuff for my small apartment. How did this happen? It didn't look like it was that much when I packed up my previous apartment. Yes, I am moved to a smaller place. This new place has "only" a bedroom, living room, and kitchen — it's not big by any measure, but it's more than enough for one person, and it's right in the middle of the city.

The building is old, so ceiling height is about 1 mile (maybe I'm exaggerating a little). The windows are as tall as doors, and the view is down to a busy street with restaurants and bars.

But back to the problem at hand: where do I put all this stuff? I have weeded out old clothes and probably get rid of a few more things. The big problem is all my kitchen stuff. I like to cook and I therefore have a bit more than just a pot to boil some water. And what about all the cups and plates and glasses (wine and beer and other). Then there is the wine rack. Where do I put it? Oh, and the other liquor bottles? I mean, some "stuff" one simply cannot live without.