It was purely coincidental that my first trip to Detroit came a week before I serve as a judge at First Person Arts' 4th annual City vs. City Story Slam that pits storytellers from Philly against Detroit. The theme is "Mistaken Identities," and the slam is set for Friday at 7:30 p.m. at the Free Library of Philadelphia (1901 Vine St.). Nonetheless, it puts me in the storytelling mood.

It was sunny and 70 degrees as I bounded onto the Midtown Detroit sidewalk last Thursday. Having just checked into what can only be described as an urban bed and breakfast, I was anxious to see the city. As I rounded Ferry Street and onto Woodward, I couldn't get past the overwhelming intimidation. 

Woodward is a seven-lane street, three lanes on each side with a turning lane in the middle, and one of several major Detroit thoroughfares. As I kept walking, I noticed the side streets were also wide. Roads are big here, which shouldn't come as a surprise in this city. Crossing the big streets took a deep breath and quick steps, and I couldn't help but notice that the streets were missing something. In a part of town that includes Wayne State University, Detroit Institute of Arts, Detroit Medical Center and other historic and cultural venues, there should have been more cars. 

There should have been more people.

I'll spare you another take on Detroit's demise, on its dramatic population decline, on its industrial betrayal. By the end of my weekend there, spent mostly with leadership of Flying Kite parent company Issue Media Group and sister publication Model D, it became obvious Detroit is a national leader in more than ruin porn. 

Detroit is the ultimate land of opportunity.

For example, in a city where there is no recycling -- that's right, put it out on the curb and it goes to the landfill -- there are many individuals who have taken upon greening the city themselves. There is ample evidence in Midtown (formerly known as Cass Corridor) alone. Right next to the Model D house, our sister pub's new home in a renovated former coffee shop and music venue, is the city's first true coworking space called Green Garage. 

Built in 1920, the former showroom for Model-T cars, the building was purchased by its current owners in 2008 and given a green overhaul, including drywall made from flyash, a material scraped from coal smoke stacks; furniture from the Detroit Public Schools warehouse; a still-developing green roof; and a host of other reclaimed materials.  The building is home to several triple-bottom line businesses. One of them, New Solutions Group, is helping organize a series of community conversations that will help inform Detroit's long-term city planning process, not unlike our own Philadelphia2035 plan.

Across the street is the Thistle Coffee House, unremarkable until you notice your coffee cup and lid are both compostable. Just south and around the corner is Avalon International Breads, which serves its coffee in the same cups, does its own composting and recycling, and bills itself as an "eat well, do good" eatery.

I couldn't help but think of the incredible steps Philadelphia has taken in the last several years to become a world leader in sustainability, and wondered if Detroit could get there someday. Somehow, it was less about rivalry and more about hope.

Thanks to my tour guide, colleague and friend Walter Wasacz, I saw a bridal party march out of a party bus and in front of the long-abandoned Michigan Central Station train depot to pose for pictures. I saw the inspiring charm of Disneyland in Hamtramck, a small suburb on Detroit's doorstep that knows many of the problems that have befallen the city but endures as a bastion of diversity, with Poles, Yemeni, Bangladeshi and African-Americans and with a fervent art and music scene. Disneyland is a towering folk art installation that connects two garages and was constructed by a Ukranian immigrant upon his retirement from General Motors, completed in 1999. I quickly realize people find everything they'd ever want in Hamtramck.

I also experienced the jarring rawness of The Heidelberg Project, a widely publicized public art project that is very different (see photos) from the murals of which we Philadelphians are so rightly proud. 

"It comes from a different place," Wasacz tells me of The Heidelberg as we circle around for a second look.

At night, I talked to a failed restaurateur dreaming of his next concept -- tacos -- while he was wrapping up another long shift managing one of Midtown's busiest dinner spots.

Detroit and Philadelphia share many triumphs and tragedies, but don't be mistaken. Their identities are laid bare in the opportunities they present, and the brave souls who pursue them. 

JOE PETRUCCI is managing editor of Flying Kite. Send feedback here.

Photos by Joe Petrucci