43 Hours in Philly

I did feel a certain duty as a Louisianan to show my friends in DC how to have a real hurricane party.  I learned from talking about hurricane parties with many people that many of you actually think that one drinks hurricanes during a hurricane party.  How silly!  Of course not!  Hurricanes are usually reserved for mardi gras or other such occasions.  If you are going to be drinking for days on end without power in the house, light beer is usually where its at.

But I was doing what any self-respecting Louisianan would do during the threats of Irene: laugh in the face of danger!  There was no way that I could take that hurricane seriously, although I must admit that after enough television in the hotel room in Philly, I did insist on having a supply of bottled water.  Instead of waiting out the storm in my own home where I would have to fend for myself and be frustrated by the local over-reaction, I persisted on with plans to spend the weekend in Philly.

I've been to Philly a lot recently for work, but I haven't been there in a long time for fun.  We had a great weekend, especially the first night before the storm hit the next day.  Friday night we had a delicious dinner at a Portuguese restaurant, Koo Zee Doo, in a neighborhood called Northern Liberties.  Then, we walked around the neighborhood, visited the outdoor piazza and found some awesome kitsch retailers, and ended the night at an open air rooftop bar, Standard Tap.  It was really a great return to the city and inspired us to visit the Rodin Museum and the Mutter Museum the next day before hunkering down in the hotel.

Since I have more and more trouble turning off my current obsession with emotion theory, I was pleased to find a particular sculpture to contemplate: Shame (Absolution).  The woman's tucked in legs, overflowing hair that covered her face down to her waist, and arm shielding her face left me thinking about how shame is articulated by the body through inward contortions that shield the front of the body from the outside world.  Shame is a lonely feeling and its expression further isolates the suffering.  Rodin's combination of shame with absolution places shame in the arms of a gentle body that bears the weight of the suffering woman and protects her.  The one who offers absolution is not a priestly figure, but instead also appears to be a woman.  The museum's entryway features the Gates of Hell, which can't help but set a certain tone about religious condemnation...and condemnation of religion.  His attention to the body reveals its expressive capacity, which has left me thinking a lot more about body language this week.

So, there was drinking, TV watching, and general gallivanting in Philly while Irene looked a lot more like a typical summer storm than a crazy bitch looking to take down the East Coast.