Sometimes I think that the primary reason that there is such a cultural divide between the so-called red state people and the so-called blue-state people is that the divide is more about urban dwellers vs. suburban/rural dwellers than it is about north vs. south or coastal vs. heartland.
I've lived in a lot of places. Maine, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida, Michigan, Los Angeles. It's a shock to find out that you can't buy a slice of pizza in rural Michigan (they expect you to buy the whole pie) or that they have no idea what a hoagie is.
But more important than the differences in foodstuffs is the differences in the diversity of everyday experiences. So, this is little diary of 24 hours in Philadelphia.
My wife and I ended our workweek at 4 PM on Friday and I walked over to the Beer Distributor (a Stalinist institution that all Keystone Staters will recognize) to buy a case of Heineken. I chatted with the Koreans in the store for a little bit, and they offered me some free bubble gum. I politely declined.
My wife and I had a few beers, entertained a friend and her child who dropped by, and then we walked over to a corner restaurant. Entering through a smoky bar of cigar smoking mafiosa, we settled down for an old-style Italian family meal. As we listened to the endless loop of Frank Sinatra (that has never been turned off as far as I know) we started out with some delicious Fried Calamari. Then I ate a heaping plate of Fettucine alla Carbonara, while my wife enjoyed some Gnocchi. With a half-carafe of cheap house Chianti, the bill came to about $23.
Then we went home, played some darts and hit the sack.
I woke up hungry. We walked over to the corner store where I chatted with a guy from Georgia about the death of the Prime Minister there. He didn't believe the story about a faulty space heater asphyxiating the PM. I agreed it sounded fishy.
Then we headed downtown to a Jersey-style diner for a solid plate of eggs and hash browns. About $18.
We headed over to the Italian Market and dropped into the spice store. There a Bulgarian woman filled out our order: cardomom pods, turmeric, cayenne pepper, black mustard seeds, cumin seeds, chili powder, dried red chilis, red flake pepper seeds, allspice. Total bill: $18. Total cost in corporate super market? I don't know, they don't carry half the stuff. But what they do carry would have cost over $50.
After we stopped in to have a coffee at an Italian cafe, we were feeling hungry again. So, putting off a visit to the Chinese grocer, we dropped by a middle eastern take-out joint and she got the Combination Falafel Platter, complete with grape leaves, baba ganush, tahini sauce and cucumber salad. I settled for a Garden-Style Lamb and Beef Gyro. Yummy. While one of the Lebanese co-owners grilled up our lunch, we chatted about the assassination of the ex-Prime Minister there. He thought the Syrians might be behind it.
When we got home I chatted briefly with my Italian Catholic gay neighbor, and waved to the Italian Catholic family that no longer talks to him now that they know he's gay.
Needless to say, this is not the kind of day or experience that most Americans have. And maybe what we need is internal cultural exchange programs.
Now, if I can just decide where to go for dinner. I'm thinking Vietnamese.