PHOTO: Mary van Balen
This snowy winter day found me walking the streets of Charleroi, Pennsylvania. Actually, I was doing more slipping and sliding than walking. Anyone could tell by my gingerly pace and occasional grasp at a parking meter for balance that I am basically a flatlander who, while used to messy slush, had little experience with walking through it up and down hills.
I passed lots of empty storefronts and buildings for rent. I was looking for a place to stop for a hot cup of tea and maybe a sandwich. A look to the left revealed the golden arches; a look across the street showed a cheerful plump statue of a chef holding an “authentic GYROS” sign standing by the entrance to Paolos Pizza and Pastaria. As if to add balance, a blue scarfed snowman waved from the other side of the front doors, and pointed to a sign advertising a Sunday Pasta Brunch.
Avoiding puddles of dirty slush, I made my way to Paolos, local always my choice over chains. Read More
This snowy winter day found me walking the streets of Charleroi, Pennsylvania. Actually, I was doing more slipping and sliding than walking. Anyone could tell by my gingerly pace and occasional grasp at a parking meter for balance that I am basically a flatlander who, while used to messy slush, had little experience with walking through it up and down hills.
I passed lots of empty storefronts and buildings for rent. I was looking for a place to stop for a hot cup of tea and maybe a sandwich. A look to the left revealed the golden arches; a look across the street showed a cheerful plump statue of a chef holding an “authentic GYROS” sign standing by the entrance to Paolos Pizza and Pastaria. As if to add balance, a blue scarfed snowman waved from the other side of the front doors, and pointed to a sign advertising a Sunday Pasta Brunch.
Avoiding puddles of dirty slush, I made my way to Paolos, local always my choice over chains. Read More