Reading Terminal Market - not a place books go to die

We woke up Friday morning (and by woke up Friday morning, I mean Little got up to go to her classy young professional job and I got up and ate the breakfast of champions: pie). I had planned to make up the sightseeing I was planning on doing Thursday. Instead of walking, I decided to take the subway. Thus began the day of questionable life choices.

Good life choice: wearing seersucker shorts and a blue oxford
Poor life choice: wearing a long sleeve blue oxford and having to walk to the subway in what was probably 300% humidity

The subway stop is only a couple of blocks from Little's apartment, but it's a couple of blocks in a not great direction. I passed by questionably liquor stores and stores that sold "custom jewelry" aka grillz. I really wanted to take a picture of the items they had on display in the window (read: items on a table behind a window with prison bars), but I figured that if my outfit didn't scream "not local," the whole "Asian-with-camera-taking-pictures" would.

Subway fare is $2.90 roundtrip. I gave exact change to the woman behind the counter and she gave me this slip of paper and told me to walk on in. I thought I had won a special lottery and I was holding a Willy Wonka ticket to a day of mystery and adventure. NO. FAIL.

Good life choice: paying in exact change and getting rid of small extra bills/coins
Bad life choice: thinking I had won a special prize because by "Willy Wonka ticket of magic" I mean "stupid bus ticket"

The woman had given me a bus ticket. I stood at the platform and stared at it for probably 5 minutes thinking there must be some significance to this ticket. Maybe it had a secret code on it, maybe it somehow doubled as subway fare. I went back and asked her and she said, "This station doesn't sell tokens." I then asked her what I was supposed to do with the bus ticket she got me. She explained that the ticket helps me get on a bus, and if I had it to the driver, I don't have to pay.

Wow! Thanks! USELESS. FAIL.

I ride the subway to the stop I need and talk to Debbie, the counter woman there. She is an absolute sweetheart and says that if I come back during her shift, she'll let me on the subway without having to pay again. Pleased with this lovely turn of events, my faith in the brotherly love of Philadelphia restored, I head to Reading Terminal Market.

In case you forgot to write down directions to Reading Terminal Market, have no fear. There is a giant neon sign mounted on the wall outside the market. For comparison, please note that it is bigger than that tree and bigger than most of the cars on the street. Even better, please notice the man on the phone in the lower right hand corner. That sign is like... twice as big as he is. At least.

Once you go inside though, it is like a food lover's paradise! Every different type of food has a little area, there's fresh produce, all kinds of food-related products, everything you could ever want to eat. Mexican, Thai, Chinese, deli delicious, DUTCH. It was paradise.

They also have wireless internet and a sweet sitting area. The iced coffee is totally fab and very very strong.



1. Fresh veggies and example of the produce stands they have and how cheap everything is.
2. A GIANT BURRITO. Seriously, that was probably how big I was when I was born.
3. All kinds of delicious pies and desserts and delicious things I wanted to eat/put in my mouth until the Dutch lady who handled this part of the market came and asked me if I needed help. I panicked and ran away. I didn't want her to think I was taking a picture of her.
4. Chocolate delicious.
5. More chocolate things.

I then sat and people watched and it is the craziest blend/mix of people you've ever seen. There are a lot of tourists later on, but early in the morning, there are a lot of people who the market staff are really familiar and friendly with (and it's more entertaining than sitting in the window seat at Starbucks during finals and watching people fight for open table space).

Oh, you just look like you work here.

I had a whole list of places to visit yesterday. Did I make it to any? Just one. Why?

I found a J. Crew.

I didn't mean to go in. Well, I did. What I didn't mean to do is stay for 3+ hours. I couldn't help it! I walked in and just wanted to look around and within 5 minutes, one the J. Crew people thanked me for representing them (I was wearing their really cute madras shorts) and asked if I wanted to try anything on. I said sure, there was a shirt I just wanted to swirl around in.

He then tells me his name is Glen and he's a personal shopper. 15 minutes later, I'm in the fitting room and he has these unbelievably amazing outfits picked out. We then proceed through 3 hours of fashion show with me parading around the store as a walking J. Crew catalog. The manager comes in a number of times to compliment the outfits. AND what everyone keeps talking about is my legs. In a kind of creepy way. They keep asking if I play sports and touching my calves and getting me to wear heels and stand on tip toes.

By this point, I'm starting to feel torn. I want all the clothes, but I'm not ready to part ways with a couple of benjamins for a ridiculously well-fitting, beautifully cut, comfortable, super gorgeous and all around OUTFIT MAKING blazer (even though I seriously considered it because it would be an "investment"). Since I've taken up so much of his time, I feel awful just leaving. So in my mind, what is the only solution? Oh right, lie. So I tell him I can't get anything now, but I am going to talk to "daddy" and I'll try to bring him back to buy me all these things. Which isn't a lie. I did tell my dad about shopping... for food.

Seriously though, if any of you end up in Philly and go to the J. Crew, Glen is AMAZING. Ask for him. If I could, I'd hire him to be my personal shopper 24/7. He is that good.

As I was leaving, some girl asked me for help and when I looked confused she said, "You don't work here? Oh, you just look like you do." It was the best compliment I've ever gotten in my life.

My popped collar, pearls, and madras got me to stand out even more when I walked down the street into Philly's gay district (how stereotypical that all the best shopping in Philly is down the street from the "gayborhood" as it's aptly nicknamed). I wanted to go to Giovanni's Room because all the tour books say it's someplace worth visiting. As I was taking a tour around the store, I was asked if I needed help for anything or if I was looking for anything specific. Not wanting to stand out anymore, I said I was just looking and grabbed the nearest book, flipping through it. Typical luck. It was a book with naked men, full frontal nudity, and I just awkwardly stood there flipping through page after page of naked while that guy watched me.

It's a very cute store though.

As I was walking back towards University City, I pass a parking lot advertising valet parking for Boyds customers. I thought it was strange to have a parking lot off such a major street, but glanced at it quickly while passing by. And stopped because every car was one of the following: Cadillac Escalade, Lexus, BMW, Mercedes, Jaguar.

I then went and looked up Boyds. Well, I know where I won't be shopping anytime soon.

Little's apartment also has no A/C and her room is hotter than my face when I was "browsing" that naked man book. We ventured to 7-11 to use their A/C and buy something to drink. Then we saw a Chili's and decided we'd go there instead. We got $2.99 bottomless chips and salsa and water and sat in the air conditioned room for an hour and a half. I'm pretty sure our waitress wanted to punch us in the face.

And then we went back to the apartment to eat a pie I'd made. It hadn't cooked all the way through. I had made enough filling for 4 pies (because I refuse to measure) and only had 2 pie crusts. Instead of throwing away the extra and/or saving it like Little suggested, I just forced all the filling into 2 pies. And baked at the normal temperature/time.

Whatever. It's still edible (kind of).

She's a girl - a real, live girl.

"She's a girl - a real, live girl. It's just that she has to prove something--to herself and to her family. She has to prove that she has a brain and that if she ever has to compete with men on their own terms, she can do it - and win. But she really doesn't want to compete with men. In her heart she wants to attract men and eventually marry one. The girl watcher should not let this situation disturb him, however. If the girl is watchable, she should be watched, no matter what her motives or ambitions may be. The same thing is true of a cigarette. If it's smokeable, it should be smoked--and Pall Mall is the most smokeable of all!"

- 1962 Advertisement, Daily Pennsylvanian

That lovely quote was carved into a stone walkway that winds through this women's "memorial" park (though after reading some of the quotes, I doubt "memorial" is the right word to use) between UPenn and Drexel University.


We left the apartment yesterday morning and decide to go down the fire escape because it's closer to the street. Maybe it's because of the mental image of the fire escape from Pretty Woman, but I was sure we were going to get locked in and die. Yes, locked in. You walk outside and back into the building into this brick encased stairwell with rickety wooden stairs that Kate Moss could snap in half. This photo doesn't even do it justice. I thought I was close to dying and used a cell phone instead of my camera (not like there's much difference - my cell is 1.3 megapixels and my camera is 2.0 megapixels).

Once we stumbled out into the sunlight and the door slammed shut behind me, Little realized that the map and directions she wrote out were in the room. In trying to figure out how much time it'd take to run back up, we realized that the map and directions were in her room, on the bed. Next to her keys.

With my impeccable sense of direction (aka with Little's freakish photographic memory), we walked to the hospital where she somehow found her way around. Meanwhile, I found this sweet cafe with wireless and outdoor seating, drank like 2 large cups of iced coffee and planned out my day.

First stop, UPenn's bookstore. Why? Because it's the largest academic bookstore in the country. A few years ago, they struck a contract with Barnes and Nobles who built a new bookstore for them in the B&N style = gigantic. As I walk in, a girl stops me and asks if she can talk to me about global warming. She's not the most persuasive person, but all I can think about is Al Gore's stupid documentary and the polar bear that just keeps swimming looking for ice and all the ice melts and the polar bear just drowns. I told her I'd make a one time donation. She tried to make small-talk, like what was I doing in Philly, where I'm from, what's up, etc. I told her I finally got access to my trust fund, I quit my job, and I'm traveling the world (all true except for the trust fund thing, which set her expectations too high. Maybe if she wants that kind of donation, she should take a "how to talk to strangers and not make them want to stab themselves in the face" class).

When I handed her the check for $10, I think she was a little surprised. She mentioned how they usually encourage larger donations for one time donors. I told her I don't even live in Pennsylvania and I just sacrificed a gallon of gas for my Hummer.

I walked into the bookstore and headed straight for the writing section. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING I SEE? Another Asian person crouching by the shelf. But what is the second thing I see? This book. Of course I think it is absolutely hilarious. Please note that it is next to a book on novel writing and next to an Oxford and MLA Style Guide. Yeah UPenn, way to impress me.

Of course while I'm looking through this book and taking pictures of it, one of the store workers comes up and asks me if she can help me with anything. I say no and hastily shove the book back on the shelf. 10 minutes later, she comes up to me again and asks if I'm finding everything ok. Good part = I am holding a book on how to find the perfect career for you. Bad part = I am somehow, unbelieveably, on the chapter that talks about how to voice dub pornography. Great.

I found a falafel stand selling delicious food for lunch. For $4.75 I got falafel, pita, rice, really fresh grilled veggies, and this spicy delicious sauce. I sat on campus and ate it and got super creeped out when an old man on the bench across from me kept making eye contact and eating his bag of fruit in a... semi-seductive way? And by semi-seductive, I mean I threw up in my mouth/on myself/all over the bench every time I had to watch that. I would rather have witnessed my grandparents conceive my parents than experience that again.

At 1:45 I headed over to the Admissions office for a tour. I figured it's a weekday, how many people can there be? We popped into the end of the info session and oh for the love of all that is... it was an auditorium FILLED with people. I'm talking probably 100-200 people. They were asking questions like, "Do SATs count?" and "Tell me more about blah blah blah." I sat in the back and played poker on my phone and scandalized the family next to me.

Next we broke up into smaller groups for tours. SOMEHOW I ended up in the group of 20 where only 4 people were not Asian, and that group of 4 was a family from NJ. The guide then made us go around in a circle and introduce ourselves and what we want to come to UPenn for. Since I have no shame, I started off by saying my name is Lauren, and I'm very interested in coming to UPenn for pre-med and computer science. All the other Asian parents were very impressed with a) my choice of majors and b) my outspokeness and started nudging their kids.

They were impressed until 10 minutes into the tour when we walked by a GAP, and I pushed my way through the mass to get to it. I was in the store for 20 minutes and decided I really, really, REALLY wanted to go to Urban Outfitters. Little and I had passed one coming into the city, so I knew there was one "nearby."

20+ blocks later, I no longer care about Urban Outfitters but refuse to turn around and/or ask for directions. I cross over this lovely bridge and HAVE to document the trek. Keep in mind this bridge.

Meanwhile, I get hollered at A TON because the shorts I'm wearing are a little short, they ride up when I walk, and as unprofessional/unclassy/TMI as it may sound (IT WAS HOT OUT), there may have been sweat stains. I'm really going to regret posting that.

I make it to UO. NOTHING GOOD. But along the way, I stopped to eat at Rittenhouse Square and some guy gave me a free Starbucks card. I know it's sideways. Why don't you just pick up your computer and turn it sideways and then it'll be right side up?

It was delicious. Except Starbucks here has no wireless. USELESS to me. Little met me outside and we went back to the apartment and her roommate let us in. We grabbed a quick dinner of delicious turkey sandwiches and moved her car. The plan was to walk down South Street.

The cute, boutique part of South Street. But of course we decided it would be a good idea to walk from UPenn's campus. More specifically, past 45th St.


We're crossing over the river and Little decides to freak me out by doing a handstand on the railing of the pedestrian walk (SEE ABOVE). She doesn't actually do it, but jumps up a little. I panic, but the woman next to us actually has a legit reaction. She then walks with us, the whole time talking about how she probably would have died on impact or suffered serious brain damage and been a vegetable and kept running over the worst case scenarios about what would have happened to Little's body in that river. Then she just kept talking about Philly and was just over-the-top exuberant and hilarious and a whole lot of fun.

Long story short, the fun South Street starts at 7th St. In total last night, we walked ACROSS the city of Philadelphia, 50+ blocks, and got there in time for everything to be closed. Except for a psychic palm reader/tarot card reader. $5. I dragged Little up this narrow flight of stairs to experience it, except when you look through the window in the door at the top of the stairs, it's CLEARLY someone's house. And all I could think about was the scary movies my mom made me watch as a small child to scare common sense into me.

"Psychic" reading + sketchy kitchen + two girls = one of us is going to die and be butchered/eaten by cannibals while the other ends up running around in the rain in a wet t-shirt. And since I'm a minority/was wearing not sexy clothes at all, I was pretty sure I was going to die.

More pictures to come later, but I clearly didn't pack appropriately. I'm planning to head to the "gay district," the Italian Market, and Chinatown today. I'm wearing pearls, a popped collar Polo, and madras shorts. POOR LIFE DECISIONS.

One Way is not always the right way

We drove up to Philly yesterday morning. We left the DC area at around 11 and made it to Philly a little before 2, which is not bad considering we stopped for 20 minutes or so at Maryland House and we hit construction traffic heading into the city.


Little had never been to Maryland House and didn't even know what I was talking about. Maryland House Service Area is in the middle of 95, literally, it sits between the north bound and south bound lanes in this oasis of artery-clogging food and bathroom breaks.

Key point = it had a Starbucks.

We parked the car, went inside, and joined this ridiculously long line. Of course, when I get to the counter, I cause more trouble/delays. First of all, I was dehydrated, but instead of getting water I figured I'd get iced drinks because ice is made from water.


Apparently, one drink wasn't enough for me. I get a large iced coffee and then order a skinny vanilla latte. After she rings me up, I decide to clarify that I meant iced skinny vanilla latte. She has to cancel my order and re-ring me up only to tell me they are out of sugar-free vanilla. I then ask her to go through their entire syrup selection.

I get my iced coffee and while waiting for my delicious skinny latte (which btw looks nowhere near as delicious as the advertisements because I am pretty sure my foam doesn't have that nicely powdered cinnamon/brown sugar/drugged delicious on it), I finished the entire coffee.

At this point, I have eaten 0 food products and consumed 0 hydration products. Thoroughly jittery, we get back in the car and here finally comes the main point of this post: Little takes a one way road that takes us to 95... South.

Panicking, we decide, in our caffeine riddled state, to back up down the one way street. Problems with the plan:

1. It's not a short street. It's actually kind of long, with a curve in it so cars speeding around the corner won't see us.

2. Little is not the best car-backer-upper.

She starts off kind of slow and all of a sudden we jerk, fly back, and swerve a little, followed immediately by, "Whoops."

The One Way experience doesn't end there. Later, in Philly, we need to make a right turn down this street. Little is positive the street is One Way. In confusion, we stop in the middle of the intersection until a car honks at us. Little then veers the car off to the side onto a pedestrian walkway. Where we see the street is NOT One Way, but we're too far past the lane to turn.

I also want to point out the main reason we didn't drive separately is because Little's sister and mother said it would be a bad idea. Why? Because I am an Asian driver. Oh, the irony.

How to look cool when you're unemployed

Here is how to look cool in the grocery store when you're unemployed and in a t-shirt and everyone else your age is in classy professional gear:

1. Shop in the gourmet food aisle. Contemplate the difference between organic products. Hold two fancy looking items in your hands and pretend to care about the nutrition information and the calorie count.

2. Sip on your Starbucks latte (extra shot of espresso, soy milk, and sugar-free vanilla) while you browse the fresh fruit.

3. As you are walking out the automatic glass doors, whip out your sunglasses and put them on.

4. Walk into the glass pane because the door is to the right, the pane is to the left, and you didn't realize that only one side slid open. Drop bags of groceries, break sunglasses. Look like an idiot.

5. You look even cooler because your sister works there and all her friends know who you are.

The first step is always the hardest

Oh, Dr. Seuss.

It's sad that 20 or so years after I first learned to read, my favorite author hasn't changed. I don't know if it's a testament to his influence or if it speaks to the quality of my English degree.

Almost a year ago, at that fateful graduation party, a classmate's mother asked my parents what my plans were for this upcoming year. My father responded that I was exploring my options, testing the waters. She then asked him if my parents were ok with the "lack of direction" in my life.

I traveled for a little bit and ended up working in a law firm. Though it has been a wonderful, fantastic, enlightening, and character-building year, I've come to terms with the notion that maybe I just don't have direction in my life, and maybe that's ok.

As for Dr. Seuss, the man's a genius:

"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself, any direction you choose."

With that in mind, I've left my job, sold most of my furniture, gathered my savings, and I'm about to set off on a series of wild adventures. Wild mainly because I occasionally make poor life choices (i.e. buying $60 worth of clothes from a woman on craigslist that ended up consisting of 5 or 6 trash bags stuffed full of what seemed like Halloween costumes and brothel leftovers, and not even a classy brothel like the ones in Nevada).

I figure I should put in another cliche Dr. Seuss quote:

"And will you succeed? Yes indeed, yes indeed! Ninety-eight and three-quarters percent guaranteed."

Here's hoping my luck holds and I don't fall into that 1.25%.