Remember how utterly dead Trenton, or at least the neighborhood where the Social Security office, was? Boarded up houses, no commerce except for discount corner shops and liquor stores, and hardly anyone on the streets; it seemed like the buildings were there not to be lived in and inhabited, but just to provide a picturesque background for all the cars zooming past on their way to other, more interesting places.
A lot of Philadelphia felt the same, somehow. Maybe not so much University City, which was well and alive alright. But so much of Center City even, the blocks near Front Street and Penn's Landing, felt devoid of life. Even around City Hall, where there were crowds milling around, it felt like the people were only passing through, that there was nothing in this most central part of the city to hold their attention. There is a huge transit concourse running down part of the length of Market Street, I gather; but it doesn't have nearly as many shops or restaurants or buskers or activity as it could have: most of it seemed to be just huge, hulking empty walkways. The roaring of cars was a much more evident sign of human activity than anything human: there were major interstates placed prominently by the rivers.
The whole city gave off this air of neglect and decay. Sure the bits around Independence Hall were nice and 30th Street Station was very stately indeed, but beyond that it didn't feel like very much of a city at all.
Can a city like this, one which doesn't quite bring together people and ideas and communities through interaction and discourse and common experience, even claim to be a city? Surely a city is more than just two million people clumped into a relatively tight space but not really living together in any meaningful sense.
Then again really some of that interaction and discourse does happen, even if it's not as common or fluent as one might wish it to be. And there're also other aspects to it as well I guess. Stadtluft macht frei. Even if a city isn't quite serving some of the functions one might ideally want it to, maybe it can still achieve other things.
I used to be a dyed-in-the-wool urban resident, but now after two-and-a-half years in Princeton I've become rather more indifferent it seems. Then again university towns like this one share some significant similarities with large cities: there's always something going on, especially if you're a student there, and the large numbers of diverse and transient denizens (i.e. students) re-create to some extent the open, dynamic social environment of large metropolitan cities. So maybe I am still an incurable city-lubber, just that I've managed to find the city in Princeton ...
A lot of Philadelphia felt the same, somehow. Maybe not so much University City, which was well and alive alright. But so much of Center City even, the blocks near Front Street and Penn's Landing, felt devoid of life. Even around City Hall, where there were crowds milling around, it felt like the people were only passing through, that there was nothing in this most central part of the city to hold their attention. There is a huge transit concourse running down part of the length of Market Street, I gather; but it doesn't have nearly as many shops or restaurants or buskers or activity as it could have: most of it seemed to be just huge, hulking empty walkways. The roaring of cars was a much more evident sign of human activity than anything human: there were major interstates placed prominently by the rivers.
The whole city gave off this air of neglect and decay. Sure the bits around Independence Hall were nice and 30th Street Station was very stately indeed, but beyond that it didn't feel like very much of a city at all.
Then again really some of that interaction and discourse does happen, even if it's not as common or fluent as one might wish it to be. And there're also other aspects to it as well I guess. Stadtluft macht frei. Even if a city isn't quite serving some of the functions one might ideally want it to, maybe it can still achieve other things.
I used to be a dyed-in-the-wool urban resident, but now after two-and-a-half years in Princeton I've become rather more indifferent it seems. Then again university towns like this one share some significant similarities with large cities: there's always something going on, especially if you're a student there, and the large numbers of diverse and transient denizens (i.e. students) re-create to some extent the open, dynamic social environment of large metropolitan cities. So maybe I am still an incurable city-lubber, just that I've managed to find the city in Princeton ...
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