“In West Philadelphia, born and raised….”, I heard sung behind me as I waited in a slow-moving line to have my passport glanced over by a surly police officer at the Philadelphia International Airport. The two vocalists were the same obnoxious bozos who engaged in an in-depth discussion about how European women were not all they were hyped to be as we waited to board our flight in Paris. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as they chatted emphatically given their unsavory appearances, baggy jeans, running sneakers and an indecorous coating of potato chip crumbs down the front of their oversized sports t-shirts (which they were either saving for later or served as an accessory with their cans of beer). Call me a snob if you will, but they embodied much of what the Europeans imagine American men to be – overly macho, loud, impolite and sartorially disabled. Sure, it’s as much a stereotype as the European man-purse or tight jeans but in many cases, it’s the reality. These guys served as the first example of the awkwardness I feel being home – a place undeniably familiar yet oddly uncomfortable.

Still, I was back in the city I love. From one traveling drama to another, I feel like I’ve seen it all in the last two weeks. I was one of the more fortunate holiday adventurers to leave Europe without much of a hiccup. Now, snowed in due to the East Coast snow storm, I’m catching up on a lot of reading, relaxing and reflecting which I haven’t had the technological distance to accomplish in quite a while. I have a great deal of trouble doing “nothing” but my friends remind me that I owe it to myself to take a mental break. I feel uneasy without a project and American television terrifies me so I’ve been trying to find that proverbial “happy place” to remain Zen and make the most of a short visit. 

So far, this has included a trip to one of my favorite places in Philadelphia – Reading Terminal Market, where I bought bees wax candles, picked at my friend Winston‘s salt-laden home fries, drooled over Philly’s finest soft pretzels and watched the Amish vendors prepare for a busy work day. 

This was followed by an outstanding lunch at FARMiCiA, a restaurant that emphasizes simply crafted food from local, organic and artisanal producers – a triple whammy, if you ask me. My meal alone – a hummus and avocado sandwich on grilled pita with artichoke pesto, tomatoes, cucumbers and a veggie salad – was a breath of fresh air. Try finding that sandwich in Paris, I dare you. Unpretentious and original, Philly is a foodie town unlike many others and I began fantasizing during my flight about the foods I would eat during my visit.

And then I was promptly thrown into the whirlwind of holiday festivities, driving between family, and now snowed-in. Fortunately, and unlike Paris, proper salting and snow-removal techniques exist to ensure that life can return to normal as quickly as the snow was dumped. I’m hoping for another outing to foodie-town to get my fix before heading back to Paris next weekend.

I hope the holidays treated everyone well and you’re compiling your list of resolutions for the New Year! I know I am…