“the compleat, definitive and absolute history of human cultures; from nascent tool-makers to the baffling architects of their own, self-perpetuated, seemingly inevitable, doom.” by Hamm and Marlborough Chapter 34,6873a THE DENIZENS OF SOUTH PHILADELPHIA (a cheeseteak, a hipster and thee)in progress..... Upon our first arrival to Philadelphia, we were taken to the area known as “South Philadelphia.” It is well known, even amongst many non-humanoid planet systems, to contain some of the best comestibles in the known universe. We were, as the stoners we studied in the 1970‘s would say, “PSYCHED” to sample our first cheesesteaks “wid wiz”, cherry italian ice and (this is Gwendolyn, here) being unable to do “the gluten” thing, I was hoping for something fabulous made from Marscapone, like those marvelous sort of trifley things served to me by that young man from Venice, when we were there studying the courting rituals of unmarried Venetians in 1823 C.E. Before we left in that incredibly hurried manner (how was I supposed to know he was training to be a priest? I thought he was a chef. He did such incredible things with eggs and sugar and anisette. Oh, and we were, ARE, still SO grateful, almost 200 of your earth years later, to that marvelously fit gondolier who saved our necks. RODOLPHO! We’ll never forget you. How could we? His calm demeanor, his well formed shoulders, his deft mastery in the art of Poling. But I digress) We craved some Italian food. And desired to study and experience the working class and ethnic communities of this famous area in one the East Coasts biggest cities. The history books show this area of Philadelphia, running south of Christian Street all the way to the Navy Yard and stretching the width of the city, from the Delaware River in the East to the Skyukill River in the West, as a giant working class neighborhood, divided by mainly Italian, Polish and Jewish sections. Now we are used to changes. We hop in and of time and, in what seems like just long enough to settle in with a cuppa and an old (what is THAT, really, when you’re a time traveler?) New Yorker, or Punch or good Orson Scott Card before he started writing all those ridiculous sequels. The BEAN books? Really? I mean I love the story. I think “Ender” is brilliant, but it strikes me as pure mortgage-paying to lay upon ones laurels and forgo the difficult work and patience of creating something anew. You do understand what I mean, yes? Well, we were counting on some Italian food and an Italian working class neighborhood to study. But what we encountered was quite different. Now, to be clear, there is still a large community of Italian Americans living in South Philadelphia. Cec and I even managed to pick up a good game of Bacci at The Sons of Italy on Passyunk. (Might I just note here, some of the ridiculous street names which run through this city? They are some bizarre mixture of Italian, Polish, Welsh and Lenape names which seem to have been randomly designated by an eager first grader in a fit of cross-culturalism. And don’t let us discuss their lack of conviction when it comes to direction, like the aforementioned Passyunk (that’s right, go ahead, try to say it aloud), which runs BOTH north and south AND east and west. I could spend another 200 years here and not manage to figure out the actual function of Passyunk. Does it actually take you anywhere? Only when it chooses to do so and never when I am behind the wheel of an overpriced and difficult to come by zipcar. I experienced this misery because of a 21st century social phenomenon I was studying, the bargain pornography called “Groupon,” which promised me a gluten-free bakery at some address on Passyunk. A CANARD. Who can navigate this street? Where would one enter this one-way demon, in order that one may come to a desired address? I gave up and settled in for a lovely cuppa at a coffee house somewhere on Passyunk, near Washington (a sane street which runs east and west and doesn’t try to be something it is not) which served me ACTUAL, GLUTEN-FREE, RED DEVIL CUPCAKES. THE ANGELS SANG, EVEN FOR THIS DEVOUT ATHEIST. And now I have grown too peckish to concentrate and do any justice to science. I will continue, at some later date, to describe the hipsters, artists, young families and others who have settled into large sections of “South Philadelphia” and have made it a compelling if exhausting, subject of study. We were invited to a lovely gathering at home on 18th and Wolf. (now where is that name from? The natives call it WOOF. I was told it was a governors name. Governer WOOF! I’m sure he was held in much respect. Our gathering was extremely delightful, and in brief, before I return to write in depth we learned about the youngish, hipsterish, programming/developer class. A group whose social structure is managed and ordered by an insider, snarky humour by which they exclude new persons by keeping them on the outside of the joke until they deem they worthy of trust. There was a glorious broccoli and cheese soup, an exquisite cold tofu with onions and a roasted pork which procured paroxysms of pure rapture from Cec. And we saw a really funny commercial on youtube. more, when I am not trying to navigate the wilds of ‘south philly’ -GWEN