I lived in Swarthmore pretty much all of my life. Now I have left the peaceful shire to move into the city of Philadelphia. I can hardly believe I have lived here for two months. My life has totally changed and I love it.

Things have come full circle in a way. I don’t remember my birth, which also happened in Philadelphia, but by all accounts it involved a lot of activity, given that it happened two and a half months prematurely. After surviving that, my parents moved around a little. I have a vague memory of making an alarm clock radio make a loud squealing noise in Georgia, but not much else. After that, my parents moved to a suburb of Pennsylvania called Balacynwyd. I have some pretty clear memories of that, but couldn’t tell you the layout of the house. I did get my first computer there, an Apple II/e, which I still have and which still works. Around my eighth birthday we moved into a big house in Swarthmore, and I definitely remember that.

We lived in that big house for many years. We all loved it, especially growing up and not having to take care of maintenance and other more adult concerns. One day, my brother and I woke up to discover bulldozers in our backyard. “We’re getting a pool.” our Dad informed us. That pool provided us with many fond memories, and by pool I often mean the Jacuzzi which adjoined it. We practically lived in it during the summer and still miss it to this day. That house saw us through our childhood, the birth of my twin sisters, and our growth through adolescence and the turbulent high school time. It also saw us through my parents’ painful divorce. We all loved that house, but it did take a lot of work to maintain.

I moved out when I turned twenty-three into a crappy apartment. Even though by all measurable accounts it sucked when compared to the big and beautiful house, it still gave me my first taste of living on my own and I still enjoyed it for that reason.

Within a year I began to feel cramped in my tiny apartment, and decided to start looking for options. I also began to realize that having real estate makes a good tangible investment. In the summer of 2002 I found a house also in Swarthmore that fit the bill. I planned to live in it, get it fixed up, then sell it for a profit. It seemed like a lot of house for one person, but I stuck to my plan.

The house definitely needed some work. My brother does carpentry and other such work, and we went through it. The kitchen looked old, but then we walked into the mud room in back. “Please let me take this down! This piece of shit is ready to fall apart. Oh please!” my brother begged. He and I both have the engineering instinct to just rip something out and start from scratch so I agreed. I also agreed to let him rip out a crappy wall in my crappy bathroom. He put up a sheet of plastic in its place.

Mom’s friend designs kitchens, so we had her design a beautiful new kitchen and my brother built it. It took months of agonizing on and off work. I had to use cardboard for a countertop and watch where I step. One day, my brother said: “The sound you are about to hear is us moving a wall of your house.” On and on it went. Finally they had done it, I had a beautiful modern kitchen.

He also did some other work at that time. He built a back deck which I called the tobacco deck because we all smoked tobacco in the sweltering heat. I really enjoyed that deck, though it did get direct sun. He built a shed sort of thing. We planned to put screens around it to make a nice screened area, but that never happened. And after falling down the basement stairs he built a solid new set. That seemed like enough work for the time, and I enjoyed the next few years with my new kitchen and deck. All of this happened by the summer of 2003.

I knew at some point I would have to downsize. In the interim I did what I could to maintain the place and live my life in peace. I had gotten into the Lord of the Rings, and realized that Swarthmore reminds me a lot of the Shire, the peaceful idyllic region in MIddle Earth in which hobbits live. That felt just fine for me.

My brother had moved into the city to fix up a house of his own, a project he could really throw himself into. He told me of some new condos going up across the street and suggested I give them a look, but I brushed it off. Why the hell would I want to move into the smelly city with all that negativity? Mom and I continued looking for new places to live around Swarthmore.

As the economy worsened I knew that I could not sustain myself in that big house. Just keeping it clean and maintained cost a lot of money. The same held true for my Mom, who had also downsized. It cost a lot to live in Swarthmore. Things had begun to change.

In 2010 I knew I had to start preparing this place to sell. It wouldn’t happen immediately, but I had to do what I could to raise its value. First, I got my living room repainted. It didn’t look any different to me, but it did make the walls feel smoother, and everyone praised it.

Then, my upstairs bathroom needed replacing. The sheet of plastic still hung instead of a wall. It had become known as the ugliest bathroom in Swarthmore. So in May of that year we rebuilt it. My brother and some of his friends worked for a few weeks, and at the end I had a shiny new bathroom. We also fixed up the downstairs bathroom to have everything ready.

In september of 2011, my Mom’s stepsister Mimi, who also works as a realtor had a strange experience. One of her friends wanted to find a place to live. She expressed the same need. She also had all of us in mind. “Oh, I know the perfect place for you guys.” Her friend told her of these nice condos in the city, and pulled up right in front of my brother’s house. She showed her the very condos my brother told me to look at all that time ago. We could hardly believe it.

I admit that at first I didn’t really like the sound of living in a condo in the city, despite the amazing synchronicity. That all changed as soon as I saw it. I fell in love with it immediately. My crappy apartment felt too small, my house felt too big, but this felt just right. I knew I would live there. Mom and Mimi felt the same about the condos they had picked out for themselves. Now my whole family would move from the suburbs and live in the city.

Mimi also acted as my real estate agent. She told me a real estate saying: Buyers are liars. They don’t know what they want. They will say they will never live in a certain place then end up buying a house there. It happens all the time apparently and it happened with all of us.

Once I had made the decision, I had to prepare myself for the agonizing process of selling the house, packing, and moving. Packing and moving I had done before so had a pretty good idea of what to expect, but I had never sold a house. The process basically consists of having showings, where you let complete strangers and groups of strangers go through your house. They also like it if you leave the house, or at least keep out of the way. I did not enjoy this, but Mimi made things as bearable as possible. Fortunately, the process went as smoothly as it could have, and one day while watching an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000, my house sold. We had done it! We had sold three houses in the worst real estate market Mimi can remember. She really deserves the credit here. I could never have done this myself. I even made a profit, a difficult thing to do with any investment right now. My plan had worked!

We schedule settlement for the end of January. Mimi had already sold her house. Mom had sold her house, and her settlement would happen a week before mine. It would get pretty nutty, we all knew that. Still as nutty things go I think it went as well as it could have.

We threw out so much crap in my house. I’ve collected technology since childhood, and as any tech person knows, you hold onto things because, you know, you might, like, need them some day. You might need an original 8-bit Soundblaster. You might need an IDE hard drive cable. You might need a thirteen-year-old laptop with a broken CD drive slot and a 56K modem as its only method of connecting to the outside world. Sure.

While going through all this stuff, several things became apparent. Cassettes have become ridiculously antiquated, though my buddy Jason Scott might not agree. Optical media like cd’s and dvd’s will soon become similarly antiquated before long. Old technology weighs a lot. I found an old portable printer I used to lug around during high school, and it still felt heavy and unwieldy as an adult. Technology goes out of date fast, but adaptive technology goes really out of date really fast. I threw out pretty much everything outdated, except for my old Braille ’n Speak. I just did not have the heart to.

Bags and bags of crap went out to the curb. Mom went to Good Will every day between our two houses. We accumulate so much stuff over time. It actually felt good to get rid of it. Some of it even had some bad energy. Get it all out!

The day got close and it felt like we still had a lot to do. We had a few terrible days but by the night before we had done it. I still had my computer and stereo to pack, but I could do that myself. I buckled down and did that, and found myself standing alone in a quiet house. It felt weird.

I thought about all the things that went on in this house, and all the packed stuff that went along with the memories. In the living room, I thought about all the great times I had listening to music and watching DVD’s. I lay down on my cool couch for the last time, since it would not fit in the condo. I went into the dining room, taking in the ambience. I had my tobacco cabinet here.

I walked into the kitchen, a real highlight of the house. I had many good meals here. It has an island and barstools, giving the whole thing a relaxed feel. The corion made for easy cleanup. It also has a gas stove, which sadly I would have to say good bye to. The condo only has electric. I felt a little sad about that.

I also felt sad about about a girl I loved who broke my heart, then broke my dishwasher. I know how to fix my emotions, but I don’t know the first thing about dishwashers. I got a repairman to fix it as best as he could, but it never quite closed properly again. I also thought about the Frigidaire refrigerator. I had a lot of problems with it. I even got a custom made braille sign that says: Frigidaire Sucks Balls! I wanted it to say something else that started with the letter F, but figured they’d never allow that so I compromised. Despite these imperfections, the kitchen has a joyful vibe.

I went upstairs and stood in my office. At least the people who bought my house would have a sweet FiOS connection wired for ethernet. I also did some work to clean up the power a little, since the house had a lot of old wiring and poor grounding. If you have never had to deal with a ground hum then you just can’t understand. Now the machines had fallen silent like a museum. Nothing hummed. I walked into the new upstairs bathroom and made sure I had packed all my toiletries. I knew the new owners would enjoy the new bathroom.

I walked into my quiet bedroom. I had just packed an overnight bag, a good idea when moving. I then took a breath, and walked into my meditation room. I loved this room. My friends loved this room. Steve Jobs loved his meditation rooms, as his biography pointed out. I knew i would really miss it, but the meditation technique I developed here gave me the internal tools to deal with this and know that something else would arise. Meditation comes from within, and a meditation space just mirrors this internal relationship.

After that jolt I lay down for a few hours sleep and then the most insane day ever began. I woke up at six o’clock or something. I quickly ate and the movers came right on time. They did not waste any time, and just kicked ass. While that happened, I went to my settlement. For a few hours I had no home. As we finalized things, we saw the moving truck going down the street. I had definitely moved.

We headed into the city. It felt weird. I arrived at my new condo and found the movers moving things in and putting my desk together. We made some decisions about arranging the furniture, and the unpacking continued. I felt so tired and things felt like a dream. Finally they had finished and left. We ate our first dinner together at Hawthorne’s Cafe, a good local place. I lay down in my new bedroom and prepared myself for my battle with Verizon.

While freaking out about moving, I talked to my awesome new friend Rachel. I told her that Swarthmore reminds me a lot of the Shire. She said: “I’ll bet you won’t go back to the shire. Frodo didn’t go back.” I could hardly speak. I knew she spoke the truth.

Having lived here a little while, I can already say that I love living in the city! It rules! It has so much authentic stuff. For example, we get real Italian restaurants instead of chain ones. I have a few health food stores within walking distance of me. I can get tons of vegetarian food either with a short walk, cab ride, or delivered. It really opens things up. Plus, the grid layout of Philadelphia makes navigation a lot easier. GPS comes in even more handy. I know I made the right move.

Interestingly, my cat loves it here too. I thought she’d feel scared, but she took right to it. Before she would just kind of hide out in my bedroom. Now she acts friendlier and more playful. She enjoys sitting in the loft, getting sun and overseeing the place. We both feel the same way.

I have it! I have my iPad 2. Getting it proved one of the strangest experiences in recent days. Listen if you will to my tale.

When Apple announced the iPad 2, I felt intrigued, and wondered if I should buy one despite owning an iPad 1. I read and thought and read some more, and eventually decided to. I wanted to experience the dual core processor, and wondered if it would boost VoiceOver performance. The iPad 1 always seemed a little clunky to me. The new design sounded interesting as well, and I wondered if it would have better feel appeal. Apple always does such a wonderful job with making things that feel cool to hold. I also felt very excited when I learned of the glass display. I figured I wouldn’t have a problem finding a new owner for my iPad 1, I still consider it a beautiful piece of machinery, but I wanted to move forward.

I read that Apple would make it available at 04:00 A.M. eastern time on March 10th. I knew they would sell out fast, but as it happened, one of my favorite radio shows called Over the Edge, would play then anyway, so I knew I could successfully pull this off. By 04:30 I had used my iPad 1 to purchase my iPad 2, with an estimated shipping speed of 3-5 business days. Perfect. The night owl gets the iPad! I enjoyed the show and went to bed. When I woke up, Japan had suffered the earthquake and the world had changed.

Around 01:00 in the afternoon I checked the Twittersphere to find that shipment dates on the iPad 2 had moved back to 3-4 weeks. I felt glad about my clever plan. I received the proper confirmation emails from Apple, and within a few days its journey had started from China. The situation in Japan had worsened and people wondered if this would effect the production of the iPad 2. I wondered if mine would become radioactive. I felt bad for those afflicted, but read a touching article which said that Apple stores had become rallying points, describing people flocked outside them just so they could get an internet connection. They also let people charge their iDevices, and I pictured iPhone users like myself frantically doing so. I wondered if any blind Japanese iPhone users charged theirs. With these thoughts I waited.

My order said I would get my iPad 2 by March 18th. They also shipped my smart cover in a separate package with the same arrival date. As the date drew closer I tracked the package and saw that the iPad would arrive on the 17th, St. Patrick’s day, with the cover still scheduled for the 18th. This made me feel great, and I even came up with a witty title for my article: Top of the iPad 2 ya!

I love St. Patrick’s day, even though I don’t have a drop of Irish blood in me. My friend Liz comes over and we listen to Irish music and live coverage on Live Ireland. I cook vegetarian stew and we have a good time. Neither of us drink. This year, I anticipated a special day indeed. Imagine my shock when my iPad didn’t show up.

I couldn’t believe it. I had tracked the package during the whole day. The package had gone out for delivery in the morning, and I sat in my recliner by the front door, anxiously awaiting the doorbell. Suddenly, it showed as delivered and signed for. My doorbell had not rung and I had not gotten it, let alone signed for it. I paced my porch and wondered.

I didn’t know what else to do, so continued my day’s plans. I started preparing vegetarian Guinness stew. As the name suggests it calls for a bottle of Guinness in the stew. Since I don’t drink I didn’t have any, and since you can’t buy alcohol in Swarthmore I couldn’t easily get any. Fortunately I got my mom to bring me some, which she picked up at Swarthmore Pizza. They technically reside in a neighboring town, so can serve alcohol. She also scanned my porch and confirmed that I had no package. With that knowledge and a bottle of Guinness I continued, unsure of what to think.

Liz came over, and we enjoyed the wonderful stew, which worked out perfectly. We even sent Live Ireland an email, and the two hosts, a vegetarian and a vegan, wanted the recipe. Very cool! Liz left with a bunch and gave me a cake she had spontaneously bought. I enjoyed the day immensely, but worried about my package.

The next day I waited outside in the pleasant almost nice afternoon with my MacBook Air. My other package with my smart cover still showed out for delivery, so I hoped that would come and I could snag the Fedex guy and ask him some questions. He finally showed up, and I signed for the package. If they make me sign for a $39 smart cover, then surely they would make me sign for a $599 iPad. I told him the story so far and he said that they have three guys, and that one of the others must have delivered the package. He suggested I call Fedex, so I did.

Nothing they said made sense. They showed the same thing I saw, delivered and signed for… by K Seraphin? My name starts with an A, and I have an illegible signature. I began to suspect the worst, that someone ripped off my iPad. They told me they would initiate a trace, but I wouldn’t hear anything until Monday. This bothered me, but what else could I do? I could celebrate the Equinox and watch the Lord of the Rings! Before the day ended though I did call Apple, who told me to wait to hear from Fedex, and if I could not get the package they would send me a replacement or a refund. They handled the whole thing very professionally. Once again Apple came through. Now I had a cover but no iPad.

I spent the weekend listening to some Tolkien material and taking care of any loose ends so I could relax for a few days. On Sunday the 20th I began my celebration at 07:20 PM eastern time. I enjoyed the movies but wondered what I’d hear on Monday. Monday came and I heard that they would have the delivery guy go back to exactly where he dropped it off and try to retrieve it, and that I would hear them on Tuesday. I didn’t know what else to do, so thanked them and continued watching the movies, contemplating the theme of uncertainty. The movies have less uncertainty than the books, since the movie starts with the backstory. In the books the reader only learns this information at the Council of Elrond, midway through the first book.

Tuesday came. Interestingly, this correlated with 1 Ahau in the Mayan calendar, the sacred day of Venus. I put on disc one of the Fellowship of the Ring and waited. Fedex called as the Council of Elrond gathered. The lady told me that they contacted the delivery man, and he felt absolutely confident that he dropped the package off. I told her I felt absolutely confident that he didn’t, and that I didn’t sign for it, and what’s this? You have a signature release that I didn’t agree to either? The more she talked, the less things made sense. The less things made sense, the angrier I became. I stepped outside to make sure I hadn’t gone absolutely insane and missed the package, but of course found nothing. She just sat there, as dumb and silent as a paperweight, and told me to contact Apple. I felt disgusted and thanked her. I hung up right as Frodo accepted his quest.

By this time five days had passed and I had to consider the possibility of theft. I did mention it on Twitter. Could someone have ripped it off? Did someone stalk me down and wait outside my house to intercept the delivery guy and forge my signature to rip off my iPad? It seemed too complicated. It would make more sense for a criminal to just rip off a package from Apple. And what of the signature? And what of the release that I didn’t agree to? Did this iPad stealing ring even reach into Fedex? They could collaborate with a Fedex worker with access to that information to alter computer records to make off with packages. I cursed all the god damn iPad spammers on Twitter, offering their free iPad 2’s that likely fell off the back of a delivery truck just like Mine. Curse them! Destroyers and usurpers! But what of the delivery guy who felt confident he delivered it? Did they get him in on it too? Who do you even mean by They? The Russians?

I talked the situation over with my family, and decided to file a police report. I had never done this before. I called the local police, and a guy took down my information in a matter of fact way. He didn’t seem too alarmed, but agreed that at the least Fedex did not follow proper procedure. Something clearly had gone wrong. He gave me the report number and also suggested I talk to Apple. All roads seemed to lead there anyway, so I called them back. I told them that I had heard from Fedex, who told me nothing and to call Apple. Apple understood, and told me they would launch an investigation within twenty-four hours. They also deducted the price of the smart cover for the inconvenience. How thoughtful. I decided to try to enjoy the rest of the movie.

I put on Disc two of the Fellowship of the Ring. The fellowship soon met Galadriel, the Lady of Light. Suddenly, my doorbell rang. I had a strange feeling. Would it really happen? Would I get my iPad 2 while celebrating the Equinox as well as 1 Ahau in the Mayan calendar, the sacred day of Venus, and right at the moment when the fellowship receives gifts from the Lady of Light?

A woman stood on my porch. “Hello. I have this package for you.” I could hardly believe it. “They delivered it to the house two doors down. I don’t know why people do this, but instead of just bringing it to you, they called us. When we went to retrieve it the first time, they weren’t home, and they finally called back again today and I just got it. It’s been sitting there since…. I don’t know when.” “Since Thursday.” I said elatedly. I felt awestruck. I signed for the package myself for real with my wacky signature and gratefully accepted it. I thanked this wonderful manifestation of Goddess profusely. She had done it. She had come through. After all my fears, it came back to the SNAFU principle as it usually does. Situation Normal: All Fucked Up. Hobbits have such a sense of family, but I can’t even get someone two doors down to bring a blind neighbor a package.

I brought the package inside as the movie played. “My gift to you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim, worthy of the skill of our woodland kin. (To MERRY and PIPPIN) These are the daggers of Noldorin. They have already seen service in war. Do not fear, young Peregrin Took. You will find your courage.” I got out my pocketknife. “And for you, Samwise Gamgee, Elven rope made of hithlain.” “Thank you, my lady. Have you run out of those nice shiny daggers?” I battled with the pocketknife to get a blade to open the package, then decided to resort to scissors. “And what gift would a dwarf ask of the Elves?” I began opening the box. “Nothing. Except to look upon the lady of the Galadhrim one last time. For she is more fair than all the jewels beneath the earth.” I got it open and started extracting the box containing the iPad. “Actually… there was one thing.. er.. no, no I couldn’t. It’s quite impossible. Stupid to ask.” “I removed the box and cast aside the packing materials. “I have nothing greater to give than the gift you already bear.” I started opening the cellophane. “You have your own choice to make, Aragorn. To rise above the height of all your fathers since the days of Elendil, or to fall into darkness with all that is left of your kin. Nam·riΔ

Finally, at long last, I actually held the iPad 2 in my hands. “Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Earendil, our most beloved star.” “May it be a light for you in dark places, where all other lights go out.” I felt absolutely overcome by the beauty of the synchronicity, not to mention the beauty of the object I now held in my curious hands. I knew that I held a blessed item. It is precious to me.

Epilogue: I hooked it up to my iMac. iTunes automagically imported my settings from my old iPad, and the brand new iPad 2 came up talking immediately. Wonderful beautiful Apple! I called off the police investigation and told Apple as well. Everything worked out. It took a whole article just to tell the story of how I got it. Now I have to write my review of the actual device. By the way, I think I will give my iPad 1 to my Mom. iPads make perfect Mom devices.

While cooking dinner, my doorbell rang. I predicted another young person, probably a college-aged girl, asking for signatures for a petition and probably money. I got it almost right. Almost.

“Hi.” said a college-aged girl. Suddenly addressing a blind person probably throws most of these people off guard. They don’t know quite how to deal with it. She introduced herself, and a few seconds later so did a guy with her. They had come to collect signatures for a petition. For some time now, Swarthmore College has wanted to build a hotel. This would give parents a place to stay, as well as supply the town’s economy with money. It seems they have a little problem though.

Founded by quakers, Swarthmore has remained a dry town. You cannot purchase a drop of alcohol within the borough’s borders. Now the college wants to build a hotel which will serve alcohol. They have attempted to get a special regulation allowing them to do this while the rest of the town remains dry. The petition seeks to put the question on the ballot in May whether Swarthmore should remain totally dry or totally permissive. They made the argument that the college should not have a special right and I agree.

I don’t drink. I think it makes people act stupid, and prefer not to hang around people drinking. Some may then find it puzzling that I would sign such a petition. I must stick to my libertarian principles here. Even though I do not drink, I fully support other people’s right to do so. I just ask for the same in return. I also support the true free market.

Of course, it also gives one a way to thumb their nose at Swarthmore College and its bureaucracy. Mind you, they have pissed off locals many times before this. They held up the Blue Route for twenty years, and built a parking lot over a field which I played on as a child. I can still remember my brother and I, probably around age seven and nine, going over and singing protest songs, which we made up on the spot. Once again they have flexed their muscle. Will they succeed?

After I made these mental decisions, I stuck out my hand as an indication I wanted to pick up the pen and sign. The girl seemed right on, but I suspect the guy may have started drinking already, perhaps to help ward off the cold February night. Having campaigned for Ron Paul in 2008, I know a drunken activist when I see one. He slowly lifted up the clipboard and I picked up the pen. “Oh…. uhh do you need assistance?” he asked. I indicated that I did. “Here sign right……here….” He moved the pen around. I figured good enough and started scribbling my signature. “Try to keep it horizontally on the line.” he said, sounding a little surly. That kind of pissed me off, but it did support my theory. I do well enough to make the signature in the first place.

I asked if they actually wanted to print my name. I gave it, and my street address. After I gave the house number and street, he paused expectantly. “Swarthmore. Pennsylvania.” his female friend helpfully suggested. We both started laughing. I think she knew. After arduously getting down my info, I asked if they had anything online. SHe said they didn’t. They do now. I wished them luck on their petition. I felt glad to actually get something of real local interest, not just another organization asking for money.

The moral of the story: Don’t drink while circulating petitions.

Ever since I can remember, Swarthmore has had a local pizza place, appropriately called Swarthmore Pizza. We have generally regarded it as a nasty place. Happily, that no longer holds true.

Their main page says that the business started in 1982, but their About page says 1981, so I don’t know what to believe. They also misspelled “Restaurant” in their page titles. Despite these shortcomings, they have a nice web site with somewhat inaccessible .pdf menus. It mirrors their storefront – simple and homely, with a few easily over-looked glitches.

1981 or 1982 sounds about right. That would mean that it opened around the time my family moved here. I have a vague childhood memory of going to a friend’s house, and him ordering from Swarthmore Pizza. I hated it. The sauce tasted nasty, the dough felt rubbery, recalling the memory of it turns my stomach. Because of this, I felt reluctant when my Mom suggested going there. I said I didn’t know, but she insisted that she and a friend had some good seafood. She knows I’ve never liked seafood, but her point remained.

We arrived at the standard dinner time. Mom said they had really tried to fix the place up. She said they have some cute umbrellas outside. They go with the tables and chairs for outside dining. It felt too hot when we arrived for this, but by the time we departed it felt cool enough to make that seem attractive. The inside feels like a standard pizza shop, nothing unexpected there. A waitress showed us to our booth, and we began looking over the menu.

I wanted something with garlic and olives. I love garlic. I settled on a brick oven pizza with garlic, olives, mushrooms, and peppers. I forget the name, I just called it the Olivina and people knew what I meant. It sounds like that. I asked the waitress about the garlic. “Oh, it’s not bad, you’ll be able to handle it, it’s not that much.” “No no! I WANT garlic.” “Oh, well we can put on some garlic spread, and give you some garlic powder.” We also shared a salad with Italian dressing. I ordered root beer to drink, which came first. I heard a little ruckus about my garlic spread. “Those never have sauce.” “I know.” I felt glad to help spread a little constructive chaos. The salad came next, made with surprisingly fresh vegetables,
real homemade croutons, and good dressing.

Finally, my pizza arrived. I loved it – a thin crust, and not greasy. I used to get these great pizzas while in college, and this sort of reminded me of those. Unfortunately, it didn’t knock my throat out with garlic. It had a little, I put on peppers and more garlic powder, but I wanted enough garlic to kill off any illness, strengthen my immune system, purify my blood and heart, parry evil, and alter my breath. Oh well, I didn’t mind so much, this pizza had enough other wonderful things going for it. I ate half, and saved the rest for tomorrow. Very good!

In total, we spent around $25 for two entrees and drinks. It felt good to go to a local establishment and have a positive experience. It also felt good to wipe away a foul memory from childhood. If you’ve avoided Swarthmore Pizza because of bad experiences in the past, you should give them another try. Tell them you got the idea from Austin’s blog. They probably won’t know or care, but it can’t hurt.

I had a chance to visit Aria, the new Greek restaurant that’s opened
up in town. You would think that a college town would have a few
quaint places to eat, but for the most part it really hasn’t. This
surprising lack made it feel good to find a place I can walk to and
enjoy.

I arrived with my brother and one of my sisters. We walked there easily. To me, it felt novel and nice to just walk into a building and sit down and eat. We got seated quickly, and waited for menus. In the background, a CD played of presumably Greek music. I don’t speak the language, so I don’t know. Suddenly, we noticed that the CD had started skipping badly. The skipping interspersed with the rapid tempo of the music made it sound like some new weird form of Greko-industrial. They must have noticed, because when I got back from going to the bathroom it had stopped.

The restaurant just started last week, so we had to excuse some things. They did not have menus, but would get them shortly. It didn’t matter, because the affable owner explained everything to us. I told him I eat a vegetarian diet, and he enthusiastically suggested his falafel. “I make a very good falafel sandwich.” “Sold.” “You want lettuce, tomatoes, onions, everything?” “Yes, load it up!” “Very good.” We all found the owner a joy to deal with, and it made the initial hick-ups that undoubtedly go with opening a place like this bearable. Give him a few weeks.

While waiting for our food, we discussed the place. My sister said it looked like a plain room, with nothing particularly Mediterranean about it. Businesses haven’t done well here, especially restaurants and bakeries. The place started getting more crowded as the evening progressed, and we felt glad about that. They brought out some excellent pita bread and some mild but still good hummus. We enjoyed that and continued chatting.

We got our food in a reasonable enough time, and we all considered it very good. My falafel had all the toppings as promised. My order came with two halves, each individually wrapped in paper. I ate both. The order also came with some interesting flower-shaped corn chips. The rest of my family ordered giros, and enjoyed them equally. We had to go, but I did get some baklava to go, and that tasted wonderful as well. All and all, my order came to a little over six dollars – not expensive at all, another welcome change.

I give Aria four out of five stars. We had to wait a little at the end to get our bill, the service needs some improving, but it certainly will improve as the restaurant matures. I wish it well, and give it my blessing. They have a full restaurant, and do take-out as well, so if you live in the area give it a try. I may even join you.

Walking home in a surprisingly mild November rain, it felt good to have this new restaurant in town. We will have one or two other new ones opening which I will also review. I’ve had a few reoccurring dreams where I’ve found myself eating at a restaurant here in town, something that up to now most of us locals haven’t done, at least none of the ones I know. Dreams come true.

Update – 2010May31

I have heard that they have not improved their service, and others have had some less than spectacular experiences. They’d better pull it together. I hope they do.