walking in san francisco
On our first date on the 20th of June 2019, you said to me how much you wanted to do a road trip in the States. Through the seductive lense of Hollywood movies, the cool dudes of 70s TV cop dramas and the classic American road trip soundtracks you dreamed of California and saw it as man's ultimate destination on earth. When you heard my sister lived in San Diego you were stoked. So a trip was planned and paid for by October, four months into our relationship: 2 nights in Hong Kong, 10 days in NZ and 10 days in CA.
We caught a flight from Auckland to L.A. and then boarded Alaska Airlines from L.A. to San Francisco arriving late at Ocean Beach by cab. The first night was miserably spent at the Expedia pre-booked SeaScape Inn (3.3 stars Google Review) on what I thought was a cool area right on the ocean not too far from Golden Gate Park which I had assumed was right next to Golden Gate Bridge which was of course not true, coupled with the fact that I was looking at a condensed view of a vast area. Everything was a real downer: the area, the motel. Exhausted from our long haul flight we wandered this alien suburb where everything was closed or closing except for 7-Eleven. Nothing remarkable I could detect from the starving, drowsy viewpoint I was perceiving the world that night.
Pop-corn and coffee for me - not sure what you had - something equally unimaginative and processed, I should think. Nothing more should be written about this night, but I will continue, briefly. In our room upstairs we argued while I was making desperate attempts to relocate using Expedia's mobile app. We eventually compromised on one night there and at a proper hotel Downtown for the remaining two nights. The motel manager was sweet enough so accepted my poor excuse and Expedia eventualy gave us a refund. That night we slept facing opposite sides. It was the first of three arguments in California. The change of accommodation and location, the blue skies that eventually followed and lasted our entire trip and of course our love for each other deeper than Sat Nav arguments and differences on what is 'acceptable', prevailed and all was good in YannaNenadLand.
After spending most part of the 22nd wet, we nevertheless covered some beautiful coastal distance after a hearty brekkie in the jolly Sunset Beach Café on Judah st. just left of our motel. From Ocean Beach we strolled to Lands End where we got a proper glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge through the misty, watercoloured seascape. Then towards stunning Presidio from where we eventually got on a bus and headed Downtown in search of a coffee shop. So pleasurable sitting on a bus in a foreign city gazing out, taking note of all the street names: California Street stuck. Another Café made its presence felt, corner of Pine street and Leavesworth street. A cool in dark green tones coffee shop, busy with people downstairs and on the mezzanine hunched over their laptops, no noticeable tourists in sight except us, just great. We sat by the high bench facing out the window watching the rain discussing next steps. We walked all the way down the bottom and turned right where we caught a bus back to Ocean beach, short walk via the seafront back to our motel to fetch our things and cab it back into town. We were back on track again. Sun was reluctantly making an appearance in and out of clouds. We were seeing things and we were moving out of Ocean Beach! YES!
AXIOM. Wow. What a contrast. Thank God for AXIOM! A real bargain! How is this possible? I know you would have been just fine staying at the motel on Ocean Beach - we didn't come to San Francisco to stay indoors and you like basic, no frills, unassuming and I get it but still, not me. Not when I'm only three days in San Francisco. Doesn't have to be luxury all along but I need a certain quality even at its most basic especially when I know we can both afford it. The bed I sleep on, where I take my shower, the space I reflect in after a whole day walking, absorbing. Things were looking sunnier on all fronts. No more plastic floorboards, shitty decor and broken toilet seats. And, we are right next to the cable car on Powel Street! Just thrilling.
So the day I really want to write about - the rest was just context - is the 23rd of March 2019 which is the following day, our second day in San Francisco. Beautiful and sunny from sun rise to dawn. A perfect Day. If I can think of absolute perfect days with you, the 23rd of March in San Francisco and the 5th of May in Dartmouth are two of my absolute favourite all day experiences.
I think, we didn't take the cable car that day or perhaps we did but only half way straight up the hill from Powell st. and then walked till we literally dropped. I have a vague recollection that we may have stopped second time to Another Café or at least thought about it and perhaps didn't. The photographs will prove it. Through Nob Hill we made our way to Russian Hill where we paused for a longish while. What a neighbourhood. We loved everything about it. The feel of the houses, Polk street itself. We lunched at Blue Barn, all tables outside were taken but we managed to score one by the window. We had large salads which we could configure in classic American style any way we wanted: proteins, superfoods, carbs in the expected giant sizes. Not sure if we went to Saint Frank's for coffee immediately afterwards or whether we walked all the way to Telegraph Hill and back to Russian Hill. Either way, we stopped at Saint Frank on Polk street at some point and the coffee did not disappoint. It had the feel of a coffee shop in Shorditch. We were lucky to find a table outside. I took a picture of our shoes and a man with a dog while chatting sipping coffee: me on my bright purple adidas in black leggings and a jean skirt, you on your green canvas boot- trainer shoes with the military brim and light gray jeans.
At some point close to Little Italy before climbing Coil Tower in Telegraph Hill you were desperate for a pee. We found a restaurant. I waited for you outside. Phew. Relief. Now we can move on. Was hot. Noticed some cool graffiti on the wall: red lips and two doggies on a leash. The climb to Coil Tower was steep but short and sweet. The view of the street we came from, impressive. It just stretched all the way down and rose up on a single uninterrupted straight line like those long streets in the desert that go on and on and on till they fade into the horizon. You took pictures of both bridges: Oakland bridge to the right and Golden Gate to the left. Then, back down and across to the other side walking the endless and fascinating Union street. We were holding hands, the sun was burning, the sky was blue, exciting architecture popping up everywhere we turned, so many Nenad houses, cool modernist minimalist vintage, simple concrete lines mixed in with weather board in brown, creme, light blue, baby pink, black or white with arches or rectangles or both, steep steps to the main entrance or zigzaging fire escapes on the façade so reminiscent of buildings in New York yet, terraced houses in an entire league of their own. San Francisco is not a city designed for the disabled or for the old and fragile, that is certain.
We passed Pacific Heights Inn - I could have stayed in this motel had I known of it with no fuss. When we reached Cow Hollow I made a note for being my definitive favourite section of Union st. Entirely flat at this point, close to the Golden Gate Marina, lots of alternative shops everywhere, spa mecca, colourful bouquets of flowers, funk and cosy. You felt close to the sea even though you couldn't see it. All along we could so easily imagine life in San Francisco. We turned right then left and right and left again photographing buildings from all angles close-up and at a distance in the beautiful and exclusive-looking Marina District. Bay street led us to the Palace of Fine Arts, a true oasis, the most prominent building a rotunda enclosed in a lagoon styled after an Ancient Roman ruin with imposing arches and Corinthian columns.
Under the hot afternoon sun and a cloudless sky we made our way to Crissy Field with a brief stop at the very clean public toilets! Ahhhhh, another relief this time felt within my system too - now we can continue for another eight hours! By that time, six hours at least had passed since we had left our hotel room with only a couple of brief stops.
As we were approaching Golden Gate Bridge, you for the first time, me since 1980 when I was only twelve years old, we both looked up in reverence. The beach was full with people, dogs, smiley faces, Americans, tourists. Life pre-Corona was dense and buzzing.
We sat by a bench. Your hair looks so much shorter compared to now. I prefer it now but as always, you look super cool and super hot. Man, I'm one lucky lass!
We couldn't actually get to walk on Golden Gate Bridge itself but we got very close from below and stopped at the Civil War fortress. We took countless selfies. We wondered up a nearby hill towards Presidio and then walked down again. After consulting an app of some sort - most likely it was you - we quickly figured that the bus just passing through the bus stop was the one we had to be on to get us to Haight-Ashbury so we ran for dear life - I could barely lift my feet at that point. If Quasimodo was ever spotted running, that would have been me at that moment. Must have been eight hours on foot flat out.
I felt the excitement while approaching the heart of 1960s counterculture: The bus ride never disappoints in San Francisco. Nothing, no matter where you find yourself is ever disappointing in San Francisco. The houses began to look a bit different. Large Victorian slightly run down, vintage druggie, arty cool and very very colourful. The high street did look a little like the cooler version of Camden.
The Haight-Ashbury’s music scene thrived and continues to shine like a beacon of the psychedelic age, as everyone now knows the music of the Grateful Dead, the Jefferson Airplane, Big Brother and the Holding Company with Janis Joplin, Quicksilver, the Steve Miller Band, and friends from Berkeley including Creedence Clearwater Revival and Country Joe and the Fish, and many other lesser-known but amazingly talented bands. And just about all of them owe their existence to the legendary, nearly-forgotten, first acid-rock-western band, the Charlatans. The first rock poster was drawn by George Hunter and Mike Ferguson of the Charlatans for their shows at the Red Dog Saloon. Wes Wilson, a printer and artist, developed many of the motifs of the early posters along with Alton Kelley, Stanley Mouse, Victor Moscoso and Rick Griffin.*
*Excerpt from Rockument.com
We were gagging for another coffee. Must have been close to 5:30 or 6:00pm. The red sign of Ritual Coffee Roasters on Haight street grabbed our attention. You sat at the table by the door and I went to order; the guy serving me was pretty unpleasant and made us rush our coffee because they were closing so the whole experience of the place is slightly tainted because of him feeling unwelcoming and grumpy. Perhaps he had a shitty day, perhaps he hated tourists. Bought a couple of cool pins with the map of San Francisco in white and the coffee shop as a small red star on it. I lost both soon after, hardly a big loss. Not meant to last as the one souvenir from San Francisco. Clearly an insignificant detail. We saw Bueno Vista Park from the cafe's window but didn't walk towards it or in it. Too tired, too late for a park. We wandered down Haight street instead, which felt slightly weird. Marihuana was legalised in CA at the time of our visit so we often sniffed it as we walked passed certain neighbourhoods. Wandered inside a shop or two, not much - nothing noteworthy certainly on my part. We took a street to the left and came across some majestic expensive-looking houses. Battery was gone by then so I absorbed as much as I could relying on your camera to capture what I no longer could.
Was tricky finding the bus stop. I think we waited for ages on one side of the road only to realise we should have been on the other. You asked someone really kind, may have been a couple with a dog. Memory fails me. He confirmed or pointed us to the right stop and I think he agreed how subtle it was and difficult to see. We waited for what seemed an eternity, nowhere to rest our feet but the neighbourhood was beautiful, the sun was setting and we were in San Francisco reflecting back on all we had seen but also looking forward to our beautiful room at Axiom, a hot shower and food of some kind.
I think it was take-away sushi from Walgreens on Powell street near Union Square, my favourite kind of shop that I had spotted the day before: supermarket/health food shop on the ground floor, pharmacy on the 1st open till late. Love this about big cities in the States, how you can go shopping at 9pm. I must have left you briefly to visit Victoria Secret on my own, also on Powel street near Union Square. I remember returning to the hotel room with new underwear and sushi!
