I spent today flying in to and subsequently walking about Philadelphia for a few hours. I’m due to begin a conference here tomorrow that runs through Saturday (errrrr…..). I’m travelling with four others, three of whom did the walkabout with me. A look at the Liberty Bell, dinner at the Hard Rock Cafe and some strolling down some interesting streets.
Strolling and historical oohs and ahhs aside, I have to say: cities. Not my thing.
This is, by no means, meant to disparage Philly. Its kind of neat. I walked through some places that would be cool to live around–particularly a market area that had just about everything you could possibly imagine in it to eat. A nice place to visit, but I am puzzled by what attracts folks to city living. Its noisy. There are odors–like garbage–that conked me on my head like no one’s business. And people. People are everywhere. And I am not sure that anyone has told the local city government–but someone has stolen the trees and the grass. No green, except for the dollars coming out of the ATM machines.
I’m a long way from home, but only in my physical presence. I am at home in my heart, captivated as always by the silence and intrigued by the smells of fall. I count my blessings that I can see the sun set and hear the leaves rustle as the wind kicks up. I become anxious in the city, anxious a bit being away from home, my true comfort zone. I miss it, almost immediately, on a trip such as this.
But I think that’s a good thing.