Philadelphia: Part 3-We had a hippo-rrific time!

Our "ph-inal" day in Philly was "ph-antastic" (sorry). For reasons unbeknownst to the Mosimans, Philadelphia seems to run on a strict 10-4 schedule. On a happy note, this tendency allowed the Mosiman women to sleep past the typical "We're burning daylight" early wake-up call. Our slow and easy morning eventually led us to Penn's Landing where we counted down the minutes leading to the 10 o'clock tour opening of the Spanish-American War Cruiser Olympia and the World War II Submarine Becuna. 


Brad had a wonderfully enriching experience as he delved into the rich history of the two navel vessels. Savannah, not overly fond of anything associated with water, kept a keen eye out for the exits. Sydney and I spent the bulk of our time inspecting the teeny tiny toilets while making immature comments. Although this will not surprise my friend Sarah at all, I can now say, with utmost sincerity and conviction, that I can cross "submarine crewperson" off my list of potential career paths. I'm not sure what stroke of genius led me to tour a submarine. Sarah and I used to chaperone school trips to Howe Caverns where we descended 156 feet into the dank, dark earth to view a pile of aging cheese. If that wasn't bad enough, we then traversed a whimsical little route called "The Winding Way," a cramped corridor upon where my now-notorious claustrophobia was first chronicled. Picture Pooh Bear's posterior protruding from the bee tree and you can sort of imagine Sarah's trials in trying to wrestle me through "The Winding Way." And now, here I was on an over-sized tub toy with a case of kick-ball knee which hindered my swift and graceful maneuvering through thigh-high thresholds. Nevertheless, I scampered through the sub like a psychotic squirrel and launched myself up the ladder as though I were a contestant for "American Ninja Warrior." 

Having learned much about the nautical history of our great nation during my three-second tour, I was ready to move on to our next adventure. We crossed the Delaware (again) on a little ferry boat to access The Adventure Aquarium in the good company of a thousand third graders. "We're in New Jersey AGAIN," Savannah scowled, shoving a six-year-old out of her way. Despite the sea of schoolkids, we had a magical time. As luck would have it, the aquarium was celebrating "Shark Week" and offered an admission reduction for anyone sporting shark-related items and Savannah was wearing her very-cheerful "Bite Me!" shirt adorned with...you guessed it...a jaw-dropping discount! We boot-kicked a few brats out of our way to touch some small sharks, elbowed our way to the sting rays, and enjoyed the spacious, well-lit glass tunnel that worked as a reverse aquarium, transforming me into a human guppy while sharks swam slowly overhead.  


And finally...my Philadelphia quest was complete. "We're in New Jersey, Mom," Savannah snidely reminded me but I was nonplussed. For right there in front of me was The Adventure Aquarium's star attraction. There she was: Button! While she didn't exactly live up to the Aquarium's description http://www.adventureaquarium.com/What-to-do/Aquarium-animals/Hippos.aspx in that she didn't frolic and jump about (at least, not while we were there), she was magnificent and didn't look a pound over three tons. "I had no idea that you were so passionate about hippos," Sydney said, taking note of Button and her companion's adamant refusal to move for over thirty minutes. "I'm not," I admitted, watching the water cloud mysteriously around the two submerged creatures of the Nile. "But isn't she as cute as a button?" 

We re-boarded the ferry, reflecting about our adventure while we crossed the Delaware (again). When we weren't busy being in New Jersey, the Mosimans were experiencing Philadelphia in all its historic and pop culture glory. It was with great regret that we bid a fond adieu to this "ph-ine" City of Brotherly Love. We look "ph-orward" to visiting Philly again soon. Maybe next time, we'll visit Unna, the hippo housed at the Philadelphia Zoo. "What!" Savannah screeched, "You mean we actually could have seen a hippo IN Philadelphia?" 

Philadelphia: Part 2- If you encounter a Philly cheesesteak sandwich in the woods of New Jersey, is it still a Philly cheesesteak sandwich?

When last we left off, the Mosimans were hunting for hippos in Philadelphia. We were also scouring the city for food. We passed many a tempting treat from the upper level of our double-decker tour bus but alas, our drop-off point was blocks away from the more reputable restaurants. I admit it: we ate in a (gasp!) food court for lunch. Ashamed by my lack of culinary courage, I vowed that dinner would be different.

Prior to embarking upon our Philadelphia expedition, I had perused a website called Restaurants on TV (http://www.tvfoodmaps.com/s3/PA/Philadelphia) to see which local restaurants had been featured on television shows. A sandwich joint called Tony Luke's immediately stood out as it had been the setting for not one, not two, but five well-known programs including "Food Wars," "The Best Thing I Ever Ate," "Man vs. Food" and "Throwdown with Bobby Flay." However, by the time we'd wrestled our way out of Philadelphia, I knew that we more than likely had a cheap chain restaurant in our future. Imagine my delight when, not a mile from our hotel, we spotted a sign for Tony Luke's! "But we're in New Jersey," Savannah observed, consulting my homemade "Phun in Philly" brochure, "We're going to have our authentic Philly cheesesteak sandwich in New Jersey?" Imagine my tired husband's delight when we discovered that we'd hit Tony Luke's on the occasion of their grand opening in a bowling alley!

The joint certainly was jumping. Customer traffic flow was a tad congested and our much-anticipated order took some time to prepare. Brad and Sydney sat at a dark corner away from the busy bar having eschewed my seat selection of stools peering over the crowded bowling lanes. Savannah and I lurked near the counter, waiting to pounce upon our prey. "Brian," the counter girl bellowed. "Did she say "Amy?" I asked. "No, Mom," Savannah said. "Ross," came the next cry. I looked at Savannah, "Was that an "Amy?" "Nope, not yet." "Vanessa," was the next name shouted out. I could pull off being a "Vanessa." It was a name with a wide range; anywhere between baroness and bordello. I threw back my shoulders before glancing at my daughter who responded with an emphatic no. Twenty names later, my moniker was cast above the hungry crowd and, like a tempted trout, I leaped from the swirling masses to latch onto my Tony Luke's order.

Reactions were mixed. Not a cheese-lover, Savannah ordered her Philly cheesesteak sandwich plain and insisted that her plain Philly cheesesteak sandwich WASN'T a plain Philly cheesesteak sandwich at all but a plain New Jersey cheesesteak sandwich which, while good, didn't count as authentically regional food. Sydney and I, who are not overly fond of meat, daringly ordered fries. Brad, however, rose to the occasion. Despite the regional discrepancy, he ordered and consumed with gusto, his Philadelphia cheesesteak sandwich and declared it "delicious."

By the way, upon returning home, I discovered that, in addition to Philadelphia and New Jersey, you can order an authentic Tony Luke's Philly cheesesteak sandwich in Delaware, Rhode Island, and Maryland too http://www.tonylukes.com/. Instead of Mohammad moving to the mountain, Savannah's plain Philly cheesesteak will eventually move to New York, where it will undergo a slight name change with a wide range. There's more than just geographical distance that separates Philadelphia and New York. Baltimore crabcakes, a Coney Island hotdog, a Philly cheesesteak sandwich. Each entree is accompanied by the sights, sounds and memories associated with its originating location. The flavor fades slightly, further from home.

Philadelphia: Part 1

Old City Hall reflected in modern architecture

Given the option of a three-day away-from-home excursion to any destination within driveable distance from my home, I must admit that I was stymied. Considering the endless possibilities (NYC, DC, Toronto, Gettysburg, Lancaster, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Boston...), I devised an ingeniously elaborate formula to determine this delightful get-away. Take a location with historical features, add in some pop culture references, then calculate in weather and traffic. In case of a tie, apply the hippo factor. According to the math, Philadelphia was the place.

Sydney's victorious shadow says it all!

Obviously, we saved our visit with Buttons the hippo as the culminating event of our mini-vacation to the City of Brotherly Love. We like to take advantage of city tours where available (another factor in my equation) so we grabbed a double-decker bus to learn about Philadelphia
(http://www.bigbustours.com/eng/philadelphia/tours.aspx). What we inevitably learn on these tours is that we won't have enough time to visit everything of interest. Our first bus was a REALLY big bus so Brad spent the bulk of his ride tackling me to prevent decapitation by tree branch. History was sacrificed for pop culture in the morning as our stops included a photo opportunity at the "Love" sculpture and a run up the Philadelphia Museum of Art's seventy-two "Rocky" steps (I energetically sang "Eye of the Tiger" until step twelve and then I just concentrated on my breathing).

The afternoon was dedicated to more historic pursuits. We waited in line for a bit to view the Liberty Bell. Our family had a spirited argument about the security surrounding this symbol of freedom. Sydney was disappointed with the lack of a metal detector to which Savannah responded, with some disgust, about the likelihood of a villain targeting a two-thousand pound broken bell with enough explosives to trigger a security alert. She also questioned the motive of a gun getting past the sensors. Would the evil-deed-doer use the bell as an over-sized shooting gallery target? For my part, I was delighted with the twirl technique required of visitors not burdened with bags. The guard made that little spinning signal like you might see on "Project Runway." I responded enthusiastically but was cut short due to a bout of vertigo. Brad and Savannah were the only two members of our family to actually learn the history of the Liberty Bell as they read the displays leading to the main attraction. Sydney and I slalomed the displays like Olympic skiers to get our picture taken by the bell.

Independence Hall was amazing. Absolutely pulsating with our country's history. Impossible to

ignore that George Washington, Ben Franklin and James Madison stood in these same rooms. We viewed a document that Washington edited ("A document?!?" Savannah screeched as I read the blog to her. "A document!?!? Mom...don't you realize what that document was?!?! It was the CONSTITUTION!!!" , saw the Assembly Room where both the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution were signed and sat where members of the House of Representatives discussed matters pertinent to the development of a new nation. A visit to Independence Hall is much more thought-provoking than a school textbook lesson as you consider that act of signing the Declaration could be viewed as a courageous quest of freedom or proof of treason. Eye-openingly gratifying to recognize the unique freedoms afforded to us by our forefathers. Instead of bounding us by rules, that initial document ideally spells out our rights and limits government interference into the lives of its citizens.

Obviously, the combined effects of my rapid walk up the Rocky steps, my dizzy spell in Liberty Bell Center and the weight of history pressing down on me in Independence Hall resulted in an exhausted headache. I came to Philadelphia to see a hippo. Hippos do not give me a headache. Stay tuned to find out how I managed to screw up our goal of eating a genuine Philly cheesesteak sandwich and wonder why a woman with a clinical history of claustrophobia would decide to tour a submarine (not the sandwich).