Asheville or Philadelphia?

Neither city is a beach destination, but Philadelphia at least has the real thing within reach. The Jersey Shore towns of Ocean City, Wildwood and Cape May lie a drive of an hour or two away, with wide Atlantic sand and properly swimmable water in high summer.

Asheville is hours from any sea. Its swimming is mountain water: cold pools under Pisgah's waterfalls, the natural chute at Sliding Rock, tubing on the French Broad and a small sandy beach at Lake Lure. Refreshing summer half-days, not beach days.

The two eat about equally well, in quite different ways. Asheville's table is Appalachian: trout, heirloom beans, ramps and barbecue from the surrounding farms, with beer as the real headline, poured in dozens of taprooms across downtown, the South Slope and West Asheville.

Philadelphia is a sandwich city first, with cheesesteaks, roast pork and hoagies from corner delis, then Reading Terminal Market and the Italian Market. It also has the wider range, with Mexican and Vietnamese cooking in East Passyunk and Fishtown and a bring-your-own-wine tradition that Asheville's smaller, mostly Southern scene lacks.

Philadelphia carries far more weight here. Independence Hall, the Liberty Bell and the Georgian streets of Society Hill tell the founding of the country, and the Barnes Foundation, the Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Penn Museum and Eastern State Penitentiary stretch sightseeing to four or five days.

Asheville has one great set piece, the Biltmore Estate, which fills a day by itself, plus a remarkably intact Art Deco downtown around City Hall and the Grove Arcade. Beyond those and the Folk Art Center, the list runs short.

Both cities run on bars rather than clubs, but Philadelphia's nights are livelier and later. Fishtown's warehouse bars, Rittenhouse cocktail lounges, East Passyunk taverns and the long-established Gayborhood give real variety, and pubs stay open until 2am with a big student crowd at weekends.

Asheville's evenings are gentler: brewery taprooms on the South Slope, dives along Haywood Road in West Asheville and, on summer Fridays, the drum circle in Pritchard Park. Most places wind down around midnight.

This is Asheville's great strength. The Blue Ridge Parkway runs along the city's edge, Pisgah National Forest starts just south of town, and Mount Mitchell, the highest peak in the eastern United States, and the Great Smokies are both about an hour away. Hikes over the grassy bald of Max Patch, serious mountain biking, whitewater on the Nantahala and the October colour make it a proper outdoor base.

Philadelphia's green spaces are pleasant but tame by comparison. The Wissahickon gorge in Fairmount Park and the Schuylkill River Trail out to Valley Forge are fine for a run, walk or bike ride, and the Pine Barrens and Poconos are gentle country rather than mountains.

Philadelphia is by far the better base for excursions. The Northeast rail corridor puts New York, Baltimore and Washington within easy reach by fast train, and Amish Lancaster County, Princeton, Longwood Gardens, Valley Forge and Gettysburg add history and countryside.

From Asheville the outings are mostly into the landscape, plus small mountain towns: Hendersonville, Black Mountain, Brevard for waterfalls, and Cherokee for its museum of the region's original people. Greenville is the one sizeable town within an hour.

Philadelphia gives children more to do, especially on rainy days. The Franklin Institute's giant walk-through heart, the Please Touch Museum for under-eights, the dinosaurs at the Academy of Natural Sciences, the country's oldest zoo and an aquarium across the river make a full programme, and the Liberty Bell brings history alive for older children.

Asheville suits active families instead, with bears and red wolves at the Nature Center, river tubing, Sliding Rock and zip lines. There is no zoo or theme park nearby, and days involve plenty of driving.

Philadelphia is much easier without a car. Center City's flat grid links Old City, Society Hill, Rittenhouse Square and the Parkway museums on foot, and SEPTA's subway, trolleys and regional rail, including a train to the airport, cover the rest, if plainly.

Asheville's walkable downtown is small and hilly, and buses are thin. Biltmore, the Parkway and every trailhead need a car, and October weekends bring slow traffic on winding mountain roads.

Philadelphia has the broader shopping, from national brands and boutiques on Walnut Street to Jewelers' Row and the huge King of Prussia mall half an hour out, with no sales tax on clothing.

Asheville is narrower but distinctive: it is the place to buy something handmade. Pottery, glass, weaving and woodwork fill the River Arts District studios and the Folk Art Center, with independent shops in the Grove Arcade and on Lexington Avenue.

Neither is a bargain, and the overall cost of a stay is much the same, but the savings come from different places. In Philadelphia, the founding sights are free, a hoagie makes a cheap lunch, bringing your own wine cuts dinner bills, and there is no need to hire a car.

In Asheville, the mountains themselves cost nothing, but the car hire, Biltmore admission and inn rates that jump on autumn weekends add up. Midweek and winter stays ease the bill.

Philadelphia has the stronger formal stage by a long way. The Philadelphia Orchestra, Opera Philadelphia and the ballet at the 1857 Academy of Music, Curtis Institute recitals and the Walnut Street Theatre, the oldest working theatre in the country, give a programme worth planning a trip around.

Asheville's appeal is folk rather than formal: bluegrass and old-time jams, street buskers, free fiddle and clogging evenings at Shindig on the Green and the long-running Mountain Dance and Folk Festival. Its orchestra and theatres are modest.

Asheville is much the better place to slow down. Invalids came to its mountain air in the nineteenth century, and that legacy lives on in retreat centres, yoga and massage, the large spas of the resort hotels on the hillsides and, forty minutes away, outdoor tubs of natural mineral water beside the French Broad at Hot Springs. Cool evenings and unhurried inn porches do the rest.

Philadelphia moves faster and a little more gruffly, and has no bathing culture of its own. Unwinding there means a hotel or day spa near Rittenhouse Square or a drive to a Korean-style bathhouse in the suburbs. Otherwise it means a quiet hour on a bench in one of Penn's leafy squares or on the creekside path through the Wissahickon gorge.