My parents lived in Pittsburgh shortly before I was born, so I was
raised on occasionally told tales of its preponderance of bridges, windy streets, and magic intersections containing one way streets that only go away from it. Honestly, we’ve only done a little bit of driving, and (probably thanks to google maps) it’s been fidgety, but not quite the nightmare of missed turns and wild reroutes I was told it would be. Will had the worst of it; the only thing I really had to do that didn’t go well was parallel parking, or to be precise, parallel parking with other people watching. I used to be able to do it, I swear! The problem is, when you don’t live in a city, you never practice these things, and then you completely forget how to do them. And maybe it’s just me, but anything that I have any kind of trouble with is always several hundred times worse when someone’s watching.
But enough about the downsides: bridges may be a pain to navigate, but boy are they beautiful. We came into the city out of the Fort Pitt Tunnel, and saw this cinematic concoction of bridges, rivers, streets, and overpasses. If it hadn’t clearly been built in the past century, it would look futuristic.
Helen, my friend whom we’re staying with, basically lives at the bottom of a ravine, so they have to walk up 100 steps to get to a major street. It’s pretty cool: there’s a park down here, so it’s very green, and trains pass through a few times a day. I know it’s probably because I haven’t dealt with the realities of them, but I have fascination with hilly cities. I just dig something about all those stairs and different levels. I’m sure if I actually end up living somewhere like that, it will become much more annoying than romantic, but walking up a bunch of stairs a few times in one week has yet to dampen my enthusiasm.