After a night spent sleeping in the luxury of a downtown Marriot, I awoke hungry and in search of my weekly Sunday addiction: brunch. Perhaps the only person in the twenty-two floor Marriot complex not on a business trip or entertaining small children, I decided to try to find my kind of people among the self-tanning, bleach blond western Pennsylvanian wives and their leather loafer wearing, golf club toting husbands beyond the confines of the hotel.

Leaving the continental breakfast behind, my first stop had to be for brunch. I chose Zenith, a vegetarian cafe and antique shop, all in one: http://www.zenithpgh.com/. The line for food can be quite long, so it was useful to have random bric-a-brac to mull over while waiting. Determined to eat somewhere hip, I carefully scouted out the address, used the GPS system, and made my way to 86 South 26th Street. Upon arrival, I saw a plate glass window with a mannequin’s head an an old sign telling me to vote for some stranger for city council. It did not look like brunch was available. I circled the block and tried again, believing that perhaps in a matter of minutes the door would be open and smells of lentil salad and vegan cookies would be wafting to my nose. I had no such luck, and in a tragically unhip gesture, I phoned the restaurant to find the entrance. It turns out, the door is simply around the corner, right by the gigantic sign that says, “Zenith” in robust purple letters. Had I been a New Yorker in the late 1970’s, I could only imagine myself parading down West 54th street asking passersby if they knew of this place called Studio 54. Perhaps I would have been more at home among the bleach and loafer crowd, after all.

My delay had only further churned my stomach, and I waited patiently among the folks who strolled in with me. These were locals, and I don’t believe they had any such problem snooping out the entrance. After a few turns milling about old chairs, porcelain dolls, and ancient American flags, a gentle maitre d’ led me to my seat.

Seated among plants, natural light, and patrons dining solely on vegetarian fare, it was easy to gather that Zenith is an eco-friendly place. You might expect then, an almost stereotypically “green” crowd of energy-efficient light bulb toting, grassroots organizing, circle drumming types, but the crowd was surprisingly diverse. There were certainly enough Obama stickers in the neighborhood to beckon a Democratic crowd, but a smattering of ethnicities and occupations convened on the smorgasbord at hand. I had always assumed that Pittsburgh wasn’t exactly the place where an all-vegetarian brunch would have patrons lining up around the block, but Zenith certainly put my own stereotypes in check.

The check itself was perhaps the most shocking part of my journey to this South Side destination. For $10, I had an unlimited buffet of a variety of salads and side dishes including a black bean salad, pasta salads, cold peanut noodles, broccoli salad (though not the kind my mom makes), bread and hummus, among others. For those Oberlin readers, it was like the most outlandish and extravagant coop spread you could ever imagine. Also included in the price is your choice of entree. I was almost too full on my starters to nosh on my Jakarta wrap, a seasoned tofu spinach wrap with tangy sesame dressing and yellow rice. At the end of all this, dessert awaited me, and I chose from a plethora of pies, cakes, and other yummy baked goods. Let me reiterate one more time: $10. If you have not already bought a plane ticket and map quested this destination, do so now. Regardless of where you live, you will probably save money going to Pittsburgh for the weekend than staying at home. Another benefit to traveling to Zenith was its prominent location in Pittsburgh South Side, a neighborhood worth visiting even if you don’t have time for brunch.

Frequently the South Side brings comparisons to New York’s East Village, the neighborhood against which all others are judged. While I recognize that both offer eclectic dining, coffeehouses, bars, galleries, and performance spaces, the South Side has something the East Vilage does not: community. New York’s East Village is amok with twenty somethings like me, drinking and carousing until early in the morning, spending our disposable income that should be in savings, driving up rents, and barfing on the sidewalk on our way home. Touring the South Side in the middle of the afternoon, I saw all the things I love about the East Village as well as a broader spectrum of ages and occupations of those who inhabit the area. It appeared to be a much more livable neighborhood, one where you don’t pay a thousand dollars for a shoebox that has bedbugs.

After leaving my vegan brethren on the South Side, I traveled North to the neighborhood of Oakland, home to the University of Pittsburgh. Though only a couple of miles away, Oakland is a vastly different scene than the South Side. Here there are sprawling quads, Gothic cathedrals, and the tallest academic building in the Western Hemisphere: The Cathedral of Learning

Part Midtown skyscraper, part church, this spiraling structure certainly stirred my academic spirit. Built in the middle of the Great Depression, the Cathedral of Learning houses a majority of the humanities and politics classes. It stood in stark contrast to my own collegiate cathedral, King Hall at Oberlin:

What King lacks in architectural grandeur, it makes up for in gender neutral bathrooms, something Pittsburgh building just can’t offer. Inside the cathedral, I felt like I had just teleported to Oxford.

It didn’t exactly come off as a cozy corner nook in a comfortable library where one might want to settle in with the collected poetry of Wallace Stevens, though perhaps the austere surrounding stimulate academic enrichment more than lattes. I investigated their famous department of Rhetoric and Composition, leaving a note for the head of the department to call me at his convenience. He must be on summer vacation because I haven’t heard back yet. I’m hoping I can just get in without taking those pesky GREs.

While I imagined myself knee-deep in books in the middle of the place of worship/place of learning, I realized that my time in Pittsburgh was waning and there were still more neighborhoods calling my name. Though inappropriately sounding, especially for a Sunday, the Strip District was my next stop. Named for its narrow geographical position close to downtown rather than adult entertainment options, I ventured forth from Oakland to get the skinny on the Strip. What I found confirmed a hunch I’d had from the start of my journey: Pittsburgh residents like to eat.

Lining the streets of this area along the waterfront are open air markets, Italian bakeries, butchers, and specialty shops that sell gourmet popcorn, fudge, and chocolates. The Strip District is Pittsburgh’s version of Little Italy, without the vapid touristy flair of many major cities. These Italian shops don’t play “That’s Amore” while you peruse an overpriced wine list. They simply churn out authentic, delicious cheeses, pastas, and meats, kitsch on the side. If you do go to Pittsburgh, head to the Strip District on a Saturday morning, when the majority of vendors are open and the streets are teeming with locals preparing for dinner parties that evening. Murals provide further eye candy along the way.

Aside from glee, the only feeling I carried with me on the way out of Pittsburgh was a touch of nausea, after all the food I’d managed to pack in during my two day stay. Though Pittsburgh offers cuisine from every possible background, the Midwestern spirit for excessive consumption, whether its Afghan or Ethiopian, abounds here. Pittsburgh’s messy mix of ancient factories and new urbanism, its die-hard Steelers fans and equally die-hard art critics make this reemerging industrial giant hard to define. Like an excellent vegetarian salad, its texture is complex and its flavors somewhat contradictory. That’s something I can definitely sink my teeth into.