And speaking of reflections, I took this deep in a dark, 500-ft gorge today.  It’s not a fantastic picture, but it’s still amazing to me.  Can you see why?

The light?  The darkness has not overcome it.

This is my last Philadelphia post, and I saved it for last because for some reason saying goodbye to the Art Museum was one of the saddest things that I have done in these past weeks.  It was also the very last place we visited before we ran out of time, and it was just a little emotional for me.

It was a dreary day when we visited, which only enhanced one of the the features of the museum that has always captured my imagination – its mystery.  Of course, can one wander and wander through rooms and mazes and keep finding incredible masterpieces around every turn.

But even more than that, each bit of furniture, each old stone gate uprooted and reinstalled, each sword carefully preserved, each painting tells a story of someone’s life and, more often than not, a collective life.

I can’t pause beneath the cathedral gates in the Medieval gallery without wondering how many souls passed underneath them as they went about their everyday lives, never dreaming where those gates would end up.  I see the empress’ bed in the Oriental room and can almost see her lying down to go to sleep in the evening.  I look at the ridged paint strokes on the Impressionist’s canvases and I wonder what Monet was wearing as his brush touched the palette.  And when I stare at that viking sword in the Armor gallery – quite possibly my favorite item in the whole museum – I can hardly breathe to think of what a weapon of mass destruction that was in its time, and whose blood once coated its blade?

And the sheer volume of masterpieces – the multitudes of patterns and styles and colors and mediums.  Standing before the collective creativity of generations never fails to humble me and make me feel small.

And then there’s the architecture of the building itself. The Grand Hall doesn’t speak grandeur so much as it declares the gravity of all the works, stories, and treasures kept within the building’s walls.

And when you step outside, and see all of Philadelphia laid at your feet, it’s impossible to help feeling small in contemplation of history behind you and the future before you.

I soaked up every bit of mystery, drama, and wonder that I could in this short visit to the museum.  I don’t know when I’ll be back.  But it will all still be waiting, growing older and older, as I grow older along with it.

Worn-down stone stoops in Old City Philadelphia have always grabbed my attention.  I point them out to Andy as we drive through, squealing “WOW!  Look at THAT one!” and distracting Andy from the poor pedestrian crossing the street.

So one evening we went on a walk just to see how many we saw.  Andy got really into it right along with me.  And we saw a lot.  So, of course, I popped a few photos.

I don’t have much to say about these stoops.  They may seem quite boring to many of you.  But if you just let your imagination run a bit… wondering how many styles of shoes contributed to the wearing away of the stone over the last 300 years; how many visitors and errands knocked on the door of these houses; of all the news in the history of America that was carried across these steps.

If you just think about it a little… it really is quite fascinating, isn’t it?

After the debacle of cheesesteaks, Andy and I were hot and sweaty and it was about to pour gushing rain from the sky.  I needed a pick me up, and my feet hurt.  So we drove over to Center City, to 20th and Sansom, parked only a block from our destination and I hobbled along in my blistered, wedged feet, clutching Andy’s arm for dear life.

But everything got better when we stepped inside here.

I love Capogiro Gelateria.  It is my #1 Treat in Philadelphia.

Capogiro prides themselves on serving seasonal, fresh gelatos made with ingredients that they can get from the best sources possible – in the case of ingredients available year round, this means they are sourced from prime locations.  In terms of seasonal items like strawberry, it’s only available during the time it can be pulled straight from the ground locally.

The result is gelato that captures the essence of the flavor in an unbelievable way.  The almond gelato, for example, is so concentrated that it seems that you are getting the flavor of three almonds in each tiny bite.  And not almond-flavor, mind you.  The flavor of almonds – real almonds.

Check out the flavor list.  Every day the flavors change, as they make them fresh every morning.  And they don’t just have “cherry” – they have “bing cherry” and “queen anne cherry”.  They include unusual flavors like pine nut, lavender, and honeysuckle.  Sometimes they even have avocado, and goat cheese.

I personally am a sucker for the chocolate and other rich gelatos, that are so rich and thick and creamy that it looks like a tub of nutella lying in the display case.  Some of my favorites are dark chocolate (which gives new meaning to the term death by chocolate), Thai coconut milk, and hazelnut.

Andy always goes for the fruit gelatos, which are really a sorbet type of thing.  I’ve tasted his often enough to realize the virtue of these lighter versions and so for my last Capogiro gelato, I decided to spring for the kiwi and papaya.  Do you see the real kiwi seeds?  There are real minuscule papaya chunks in the papaya side too.

And can I just say?  Delicious.  And look how happy Andy is.

They come in these adorably cute little bowls that at first seem so tiny as to be ridiculous.  Not so.  By the time you’re done eating it with the eensy spoon, you’ll feel like you just ate a double-large bowl of ice cream.

This made my whole day better.

We had planned a chock-full day on Sunday of enjoying some of our absolute favorite Philly spots.  Unfortunately for us, it is June in Philadelphia, and Philadelphia is a dirty and humid city, and the day just did not quite go as planned.

Let me give you some information simply and quickly.  The best cheesesteaks in Philadelphia are at Campo’s, at 2nd and Market, right by Penn’s Landing.  The meat is high quality, fresh and decidedly NOT filled with fat chunks and excess oils, and the buns are the perfect consistency.  And I say this after years of trying to tell myself that high quality cheese is always better – get the cheese whiz.  It just isn’t the same without the cheese whiz.  “Wit’ whiz,” as they say here.

But three things got in the way of fully enjoying Campo’s in all its open-air, bustling and classic ambience. 

First, free parking.  It’s not worth it to snag free parking on a quiet street if it means trucking seven blocks in high heels in humidity so intense that your body is drenched the moment you stand up in it.  Arriving at your restaurant soaked, blistered, and tired just kills the mood.

Secondly, heat.  Our cheesesteaks were delicious, but had to be almost obscured by the ice cold sodas we were chugging to keep the hot meat from overloading our body temperatures.

Thirdly, PRIDE month.  I had no idea it was PRIDE month.  Or, I didn’t until the street suddenly shut down and the most fascinating characters I’ve ever seen in my life trapped us inside the restaurant as they flooded the street.  Yellow corsets and rainbow tutus, crystal rainbowed belts and clever tie-dyed outfits – no one can say that these folks don’t have flair.  And while if I hadn’t been drenched, hot, and barely able to walk I may have gotten some great, unusual photos, what I was really looking for was classic Philadelphia and Campo’s as I’ve known it throughout my time here, which did not involve pride parades… interesting as they may have been.

So in the end, my goodbye to Campo’s was not all I had dreamed.  But I will say that in a way, we were saying goodbye to Philadelphia through this crazy experience as well.  Hot, humid, grab-parking-wherever-you-can, cultured, ever-changing, colorful, and eventful Philadelphia.

Next up – what we did after cheesesteaks to try to cool down.