The Bay.
This week has been action packed and full of surprises, let me tell you. It began in San Francisco, California. Last year, around this time actually, I spent a week driving up the Pacific Coast Highway from Los Angeles to just north of San Francisco with my best friend, Meghan, who lives in San Fran right now. One of the smartest people I know, a big smile, and a huge heart, a lot of people say we look alike. We’ve actually been mistaken for sisters on a number of occasions, which at times I just nod and agree in response to. It’s true after all, having been close friends since we were ten years old. Thank you again for having us, Meg! Our trip together was the eye opener I needed last year. It was amazing and the sunrise hot air balloon ride above Sonoma at the end of the week long mini road trip, as I’m sure I’ve told you, was the moment I realized there was more out there to see. It felt sort of surreal being with her around the same time one year later having seen so much more in such a short time.
Adventure is out there, as I like to say.
If you’ve never been to San Fran, you’ve been missing out. Yes, it’s a tad pricey, but it’s a wonderful city full of colorful people, neighborhoods, and amazing food. The hills throughout the bayside city will definitely kick your ass, or whip it into shape depending on how many you try to conquer, so be prepared. Being there last year, I had already seen Alcatraz, which I recommend if it’s something that in any way peaks your interest, fisherman’s wharf with its out-of-nowhere National Historical Park and tourist trap main street, and of course Lombard street. I’m sure you all have heard of it, its the windiest street in America, it feels like it anyway, and also the busiest foot traffic wise - again, not proven. There are traffic cops posted at both ends of the one way street all the time to maintain some sort of semblance. If they weren’t there I doubt any cars would ever get through. With each new street came a new vantage point atop a hill. Lombard was no exception boasting a clear line of sight to Coit Tower and the Bay Bridge. Sometimes we would turn a corner and just see the tops of homes and churches, other times the harbor, and if we were lucky, the Golden Gate Bridge. My favorite part about San Fran, other than the elaborate trolley lines criss-crossing above every intersection, is how many different experiences you can have in one place. You can stay in the city and follow the trolley tracks, wind your way through the lush park neighborhood of the Presidio, or for a taste of the sea, drive along the outskirts of it next to the Pacific Ocean and beach front properties. The homes in San Fran are unique to this city, the majority of them have bay windows that pop out of the front with a steep set of wide stairs leading to a large doorway and most are brightly colored, if not intricately painted in the small details in the woodwork framing the homes. Since most are on a hill, their driveways and garage doors, should they be so lucky as to have parking, are all cut on an angle to adjust for this. I certainly don’t envy the people with stick shift driving here. There were some hills, I swear, I wondered if Bertha would make it up.
Food wise, The Boy’s Deli is a delicious choice for lunch. It is a sandwich that you definitely don’t want to miss. Do yourself a favor and grab any one of their 20+ fresh and fully stuffed hoagies and head a few blocks down to the park just behind lombard to the set of stairs looking towards the Golden Gate Bridge. We set up shop there the first day we arrived and tried to neatly eat one of the best deli sandwiches I’ve ever had, sorry New York, while admiring the city we were about to explore. The weather in San Fran is a little all over the place and the fog has a mind of its own. Last year, after a few days of trying, never saw the bridge once, not completely anyway. There were a few glimpses here and there but I was sadly disappointed. This time, to my surprise and delight, I saw it every day. How amazing is that? The tall red towers greet you and on the other side, a tunnel recently renamed after Robin Williams boasts a rainbow entryway. Meghan spent the day with us Tuesday hiking in the Marin Headlands just on the other side of the bridge, the view of San Fran in the distance like a silhouette poking in and out of the fog hanging over it, fog that would eventually fade by the time we made it to the famous vista point looking out and across the bridge. I loved how we could experience mother nature in all her glory just half an hour outside city limits. We pit stopped in a small and beautiful town that day called Tiburon which was just as cute and less touristy than its neighbor, Sausalito, and had lunch at Sam’s, another delicious place worth trying. The town’s main street was small, wound around a bend, and was flanked on both sides by amazing hillside homes with a price tag I probably can’t even begin to comprehend and a view I’m sure is breathtaking.
Driving back towards the city, we crossed the bridge yet again and watched the boats hustle in and out of the harbor as whales shot off their spouts on the horizon. Fun fact, the San Francisco Bay is not only just the body of water alongside San Fran, but the part that is, is actually the deepest and hardest to navigate of it all. The part that flows under and out of the bridge is the deepest at around 370 feet and is particularly tricky for large ships that roll through there. Of the many neighborhoods we wandered through, the tie-die shops that decorate the Haight and the fun beer gardens and picnic style plaza that are perfect for lazy days in Hayes, the Mission was one I had yet to go to so I was excited to check it out. Little tidbit - head to this area if you want some delicious Mexican food, you cannot go wrong. A little rough in some parts, but bright and painted in others, the shops were all selling their own brands, a solid mixture of clothes, jewelry and other oddities, while the bookshop on the corner was being painted by a muralist as we stood there. Walking a little farther up the block, we came across a small alley decked out in street art, the shingle wall at the entrance held back the color from reaching its true potential, but the farther up the side street we went, the more we found. Artists were trying to teach onlookers a message with their poems and imagery on every inch of available canvas. I couldn’t get enough.
Not only did we get to spend quality time with Meghan, but I got to catch up with a few more friends, Annie and Serena, and as luck would have it one more good friend. Melanie, or Melrub, if you remember from my Nashville post, is from the bay area which, should you ever meet her, is something you would know instantly from her constant use of the word “hella” and the amount of blue and yellow she rocks, boldly displaying her hometown pride for the Warriors. She happened to be home for the week and I could not have been more excited, I think I told everyone, literally. Synchronicity, amiright?! Needless to say, the reunion and the few days spent in San Fran were almost perfect.
I’ve debated back and forth whether to share this next bit but I have enjoyed being open with all of you. We’ve come this far so why keep my thoughts to myself now?
We had a minor setback in San Fran. If you do decide to visit be sure to leave your car at home or take literally everything out of it. Seemingly too perfect of an opportunity to someone even though we had “city-ized” her, Thatcher and I woke up on the morning we were set to leave and walked out the front door only to find Bertha’s rear passenger window smashed and our things strewn about the sidewalk. Everything happens for a reason, I suppose. The majority of my clothing and almost all the toiletries were taken, our neat organization system ripped to shreds and my birthday cards and Parks Passport gone. Why someone felt the need to take what didn’t belong to them in the form of national park stamps, is beyond me. Seeing some of my art supplies and beautiful paint pens broken farther up the street like a trail of breadcrumbs that unfortunately stopped about two parked cars up, did me in. I cried and picked up everything still salvageable, feeling violated and a little heartbroken that my years of racking up good karma had been useless in this situation. Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I tried to look on the bright side as I always do. No one was hurt, the window is fixable, toiletries can be replaced, and some homeless person has very colorful clothing to wear; clothing I would have happily given them had I been able to keep my stamps by the way. All that hard work over the past six months gone in a smash. Oh well, time to restart that count. At least I have my postcards, patches, and pictures of all the wonderful parks and monuments I’ve been to.
Lesson learned in a city that I will continue to visit. I enjoy it that much.
The Pacific Coast Highway was amazing and deserves its own post, I will be sharing in the days to come. Good wifi is hard to come by these days.
Talk to you then,
- G.
The Photo:
Golden Gate Bridge.
San Francisco, California.
7/18/17.
