San Francisco Place Links

San Francisco and The Humble Home: Where I go with a woman to an area that speak of her beloved family.

San Francisco and The Field: Where I go with a friend to a field with history to think about our history.

San Francisco and Two Friends: Where I go with two friends and miss mine terribly.

San Francisco and The View from The Roof: Where I go with a remarkable man to a remarkable location.

San Francisco and High Art: Where I go with a couple to have the best time and feel very cool for a dork.

San Francisco and The Big Hill: Where I go on a hike up a huge hill with an amazing lady and her very tired dog.

San Francisco and The Joy Metric: Where I go on a hike with a brilliant but simple man and drink beers.

San Francisco and The Canyon: Where I go on a hike in a huge canyon with a brilliant woman.

San Francisco and Idealism: Where I go with a very young woman to a very special place.

San Francisco and The Garden: Where I meet a woman in her oasis.

San Francisco and The Search: My Favorite San Francisco Place

San Francisco and The Search

After spending many hours combing the streets of San Francisco on bike, foot, bus, and train, I have come to what I believe to be my favorite place in San Francisco. I must first mention some things about the city that I noticed while traveling through it before I do that.

• Number of Laundromats in San Francisco: 866 (per yahoo!)
• Number of ATMs in San Francisco: 1734 (per ATM San Francisco)
• Average number of sirens heard in a 18 hour period: 21
• Average number of times I smelled urine while walking or biking through almost any neighborhood in San Francisco for at least three hours: 5
• Number of times I was told to stay out of The Tenderloin District: 16
• Number of times I got lost and found myself in The Tenderloin District: 17
• Number of times I got lost: 63

I compiled the list above once I started noticing a pattern regarding any of the items' occurrence. While these numbers are in no way intended to be 100% accurate, they are a pretty good representation of what I noticed and took note of once the patterns had been recognized.

On to more delightful things. My favorite place in San Francisco, hands-down, by far, was The Ferry Building. So much so that I went there three times. You might wonder why this is, why, out of all of the amazing things I could have chosen to LOVE in San Francisco, why, oh why, would I choose The Ferry Building? In a word: Food.

Amazing Grilled Cheese of the Day at The Sidekick.

Let me tell you about walking in to the Ferry Building, when done properly, from the main entrance. As you walk into the historic old building, you are greeted by an aroma that says "welcome to cheese heaven". It is a strange message to be welcomed with, but, there you have it. The reason for this message is Cowgirl Creamery. This quaint artisan cheese purveyor was the busiest store in the building all three times that I visited. It is filled with Cowgirl Artisan cheese, pickles and other assorted cheesey delights meant to tempt even the most discerning cheese palate. The Sidekick cafe, right next door, is where I got an amazing grilled cheese sandwich; one which I will never forget. The Sidekick is a carry away cafe that serves all manner of delicious dairy delights. If you EVER go to San Francisco, make sure to visit this place or buy Cowgirl Creamery Artisan cheese. It is absolutely not to be missed.

Double Salumi Cone.

Another miraculous delight I had the great pleasure of eating at The Ferry Building was a Salumi Cone at Boccalone. The first time I saw the meatseller's sign, I knew I had to go in: "Boccalone: Tasty Salted Pig Parts". The first time I ate the cone, I knew I would be going back to that building. I am not going to lie, meat has an incredibly strong and mysterious power over me generally, but this Salumi Cone (Salumi is Italian for cured meats), was so spectacular that by the third time I visited, I had decided to see if they would give me a double. When I ordered, the woman behind the counter told me that it was the first time in the store's short history that anyone had ever ordered a "double", but she was happy to provide me with one. You know how some people say that more is not always better? Trust me when I tell you that they were not talking about this cone of tasty salted pig parts.

Another thing I have been doing while in San Francisco is searching out good local Kombucha. Of the many I have tried, House Kombucha has been by far my favorite. Not too sweet, yet flavorful enough to be refreshing, and perfect for washing down a Salumi Cone or Artisan Grilled Cheese sandwich.

The other great thing about The Ferry Building? It doubles as a Farmer's Market on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays from 10 to 2. On Saturdays there are food classes, chefs cooking up farm-fresh dishes, and many other epicurean educational events happening in and around The Ferry Building. This Farmer's Market is a great example of what a Farmer's Market can do for a community; it provides local, healthy food, education, and support tools for a healthy diet.

Perfect.

On to dessert. I, of course, had two. First, I had a chocolate cupcake with meringue frosting from miette patisserie. It was, in a word, perfect. Appearance, size, texture, flavor, sweetness, it had it all. I even had to go outside to eat it, lest I appear insane with meringue all over my nose and mouth. The second dessert was a bit more simple, but great nonetheless. It was an organic vegan donut from Pepples. Yes, vegan, yes, delicious. The flavor was salted caramel, and the blend of sweet with just a bit of salted frosting on top of the perfectly moist and dense donut was quite astounding.

I also happened to go to Happy Girl Pickles on my third and final visit to the Ferry Building. Before I purchased a jar of their hot pickled carrots, I tried the Cinnamon Plum Jam, the Lemon Ginger Marmalade, hot pickled carrots, classic dills, dilly beans, and a bit of honey. All of them were organic, fantastic, and though I had meant to send the pickles to a friend of mine in Northeast Washington, I accidentally ate them before I could get to it.

Besides all of the great tastes and smells that The Ferry Building has to offer, the building itself is also quite beautiful. The long, continuous hall, the glass roof running down the length of it, and the architectural details make this building a joy to walk through. The building is also my favorite place because I arrived in San Francisco via the Ferry Building (on an Amtrak bus), and I left through it as well. The building has framed my experience in San Francisco. Due to this, in addition to all the delicious reasons I have named above, it will always be my favorite San Francisco Place.

San Francisco Place Links

San Francisco and The Humble Home: Where I go with a woman to an area that speak of her beloved family.

San Francisco and The Field: Where I go with a friend to a field with history to think about our history.

San Francisco and Two Friends: Where I go with two friends and miss mine terribly.

San Francisco and The View from The Roof: Where I go with a remarkable man to a remarkable location.

San Francisco and High Art: Where I go with a couple to have the best time and feel very cool for a dork.

San Francisco and The Big Hill: Where I go on a hike up a huge hill with an amazing lady and her very tired dog.

San Francisco and The Joy Metric: Where I go on a hike with a brilliant but simple man and drink beers.

San Francisco and The Canyon: Where I go on a hike in a huge canyon with a brilliant woman.

San Francisco and Idealism: Where I go with a very young woman to a very special place.

San Francisco and The Garden: Where I meet a woman in her oasis.

San Francisco and The Garden

Mary and I are sitting in her backyard. Her cat is nearby, watching the birds and the bugs do their thing. This is Mary's favorite place. She chose the apartment attached to it because of the yard and the opportunity for relaxation that it would bring.

Mary just recently moved in to the building. Like most people living in San Francisco, she has had to make sacrifices in order to get what she needs in her living situation. In this case, Mary has given up a kitchen in favor of a back yard. As I sit in the middle of it and look around and listen to the birds, I think that it was a wise decision.

"This is my favorite place because it is quiet, and green, and safe. I'm in a place right now where I just want to get out of the city. I'm really tired of all the people, all the noise, and looking at buildings all the time. I have been here for 20 years. At a different time, I would have picked something different for my favorite place, maybe a bar or something. Now, my backyard is where I come to most of the time. It's been a little sanctuary for me."

Mary is beautiful, and looks a bit like Robin Wright. She has worked as a waitress all her life, and is a recovering alcoholic. Her manner of conversation is direct and her voice is deep. I can't tell if it is altered because she just woke up, if she smoked at one time, or if she has always had a naturally lovely and deep voice. She talks about her yard as if she is relieved to be in it.


"When I moved here, the buzz word for me was "safety". I was eliminating people out of my life I didn't want anymore, and I just came out of a bad relationship and I just felt shattered. I needed total comfort and safety. I found that here. I also knew this was the right place because of my cat. The last yard I had, I couldn't get my cat to go out there. There was just something about that yard that she didn't like. The first time I came out here, she came right outside with me. She's been outside more here than she has in her whole life. She's six."


Mary and I discuss the costs of living in San Francisco, and I mention that almost everyone I have talked to has had to sacrifice something in order to live in the city. Mary is not different. She has had many different living situations over the twenty years she has lived in San Francisco. Each choice she has made has reflected her changing values.

"You have your list of things of what you must have, a garden became part of it for me. But, I don't have a kitchen. I use his kitchen,(her landlord's), which is upstairs. It's good because he does not eat properly. Now that I cook for both of us, he eats a lot better. I actually do value a kitchen. It is a sacrifice I made to explore living by myself. I have always had a roommate in San Francisco because it is really expensive to live on your own, but my landlord is talking about a kitchenette in my room, which is great, because carrying things up and down the stairs gets a bit tiring."


We sit in the quiet of her backyard and look around. There are birds, squirrels, and all manner of other creatures buzzing about. It is amazing to me that this bit of space can be so big for someone, but as I look across the yard at Mary, she seems at peace. I think back to all the times I have been riding or walking around San Francisco, all the days I have counted how many times I hear sirens, (27 was the high in a span of five days), and how often I have smelled urine on the streets. It dawns on me that the size of the space in not all that important. Mary tells me that the gigantic Redwood in her yard is one of only three in the Mission district.

"This Redwood, here, has all kinds of birds, bugs and squirrels that run around on it. There is so much life back here. With the garden, I think more seasonally now. I plan what I will plant in the Spring, Summer and Fall. A big part of why I moved here was for the opportunity to garden. I'm interested in learning more. I have already grown some beans and herbs." 


After listening to Mary talk about her yard and all that she gets from it, I assume she has found her place in the city. Of course, as is usually the case when I assume anything about anyone, I am dead wrong. I can barely get out the question about staying in San Francisco before she is answering it.


"I am ready to get out. I don't want to move to far, about forty minutes north. I want to be close enough so that I can get back into the city for the punk shows. I am thinking Petaluma and the surrounding area. There are a lot of farmers there, growing organically, and there is a big agricultural niche out there; people making cheese and other really interesting food things going on. I would love to do something with plants. I don't know what it is, but I just discovered I am so happy when I am working with plants. I need to make that bigger in my life. I am really attached to San Francisco, I am just tired. I want to see more trees than buildings." 


Since I have been in San Francisco, I have picked up on this vibe. It is not the laid-back-casual vibe I used to hear about, but the worn-out-exhausted vibe I hear from so many who have lived in this city for any amount of time. I am not sure whether it is living in San Francisco, living beyond your means or, rather, living within your means and without a kitchen that would do that to you. Whatever it is, this is a great city. I can't imagine so many people being willing to give up so much and have it not be the case.

On my way out, Mary gives me some peas from her garden. The crunchy sweetness is refreshing, and as I crunch, I can tell she is proud of them. There is something incredibly satisfying about eating food that someone has cared for. Being able to do that for yourself speaks of an independence many people don't ever experience. Being able to do it in a city like San Francisco seems just short of miraculous.

San Francisco and The Canyon

It is a beautiful sunny day and I am going to meet Joyce outside the Glen Park BART station without a clue as to where she is taking me. Joyce is my BFF's cousin. She lives in San Francisco and works in the Public Health industry. She has agreed to take me to her San Francisco favorite place.

This particular BART station is about a twenty minute bike ride from where I live in the Mission. I realize on my way there that I don't know what Joyce looks like, outside of being Asian, which is not much help in San Francisco. I pull my bike into the bike stall and notice an Asian woman sitting on a nearby bench. She smiles at me and introduces herself. Joyce is small, with short black hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a sunny disposition.

She tells me that she is taking me to Glen Canyon Park, a canyon in the middle of the city. As we walk to the canyon, Joyce tells me that she did not discover the place until several years into her time in San Francisco. She says that when she found out about it, she was bitterly disappointed that she had not known of it sooner.

The approach to the canyon is stunning. Beautiful outcroppings of rock formations, the undulating green of trees and bright spots of vibrant color line the canyon from crest to crest. As we walk, Joyce points out different plants and tells me about the birdsong that happens in the mornings. She knows the birds, plants, and rocks by name, and she tells me which flowers I can get nectar out of. She points out the river that runs through the canyon, and talks about the trees she has planted in San Francisco when she volunteers.

I don't think it's going out on a "limb" to say that Joyce loves the outdoors ardently.

A favorite place within a favorite place.

As we walk through the canyon, Joyce tells me where else you can find certain plants, and that, even though some of the trees in the canyon are not native, she likes them anyway. After she says this I smile to myself. Joyce is earnest in much the same way that Joe was, and the more we talk, the more her character charms me.

Joyce takes me to a small tree-covered area where she has had picnics with her friends. This, she says, is her favorite place in the canyon. She tells me that she tries to get all her friends into nature, and brings people to the canyon all the time, but mostly, she loves walking through the canyon by herself in order to be alone with her thoughts.

"This is why Glen Canyon is so great. I can take off during the day and visit here from anywhere in the city. There is something special about walking in nature. We are so lucky to have this park here. I can just hop on the Bart or ride my bike, and it doesn't take long to get here from wherever I am."

I tell Joyce about my hike in the Marin Woods, and she tells me that while she loves the trails there and has even done some volunteer work on them, she feels badly about the gas she has to burn in order to get there. I mention The Joy Metric to her, but she doesn't seem too impressed. I have a feeling it is because I didn't describe it appropriately.

I am humbled and impressed by Joyce's adherence to her high environmentalist standards. Mostly because I am a stranger to this type of strict devotion. She is incredibly conscious about her impact on the world. In stark contrast to the average American, Joyce seems to live her life with measured and well-considered strategies.

As we walk through the park, Joyce points out a building and tells me that it is a nursery school. She has walked through the canyon on days when the kids were out in the woods doing experiments and observations. As we approach the building, I note that it looks badly in need of some type of repair. Joyce agrees, but sees it in a slightly different light.

Outdoor classroom around a fire pit.

"Imagine the lucky kids who get to go here. They get to be outside all day in this wilderness. How many people get to do that? How many people get this kind of basic education about the world around them?"


Joyce sees this school as a prime example of how San Francisco is forward thinking (the school was formed in 1970). She sees this as just a small part of a city that uses every bit of space in an intentional and sustainable way.

Building which serves as a nursery school.

"I like the fact that San Francisco is dense and people can walk from place to place. I was a bit clueless in grad school, I didn't see that cities should be dense and built up. My initial inclination was toward everyone being able to have a nice backyard. But, if you think about it, that's not sustainable. It's not a city then. Share the neighborhood park instead of staying in your own yard. That is much more civic-minded anyway."

As we walk back to the BART station, Joyce points out some local eateries I might try before I head back to the Mission. We say good-bye at the station, and as I walk through town, I think about context and the significance of the presence of a canyon in the middle of the city. It has been great to see this place through Joyce's eyes. Though I will never remember the names of all the rocks, flowers, trees and birds, the canyon's position in Joyce's life will stay with me. My assumption about her standards being environmental was short-sighted. It seems that Joyce's standards are so high that they are more moral than environmental. More universal than personal, and more inclusive than exclusive. In Joyce's world, there is room for everybody.

San Francisco and Idealism

Annabel is 21 years old. When she tells me about living in San Francisco, she glows. Then again, she glows when she tells me anything. She has the energy of a young woman who is still amazed with the world. She is idealism walking. She describes everything enthusiastically, even things that you might not expect someone to be excited about.  Her favorite thing in San Francisco is when it rains.


"The next day after it rains, the city just smells so fresh. It smells so much better and so clean! The rain washes away the pee!"

Annabel tells me a few stories of having to move fast to avoid streams of pee traveling down the length of the bus she is riding on. She seems more amused than anything. I can't help but crack up laughing when she describes everyone she is sitting with on the bench of seats jump up at once to avoid a fast moving pee stream. I was nothing like her when I was her age. I was much more cynical. I am impressed with her seeming ability to take the world on in the manner that she does. Annabel moved to the city when she was 18. Since then, she has lived in many places under varying conditions. The cost hasn't varied much however.

"I moved here with an ex-boyfriend. He always told me that I was so much bigger than Santa Cruz, so we moved here together. We eventually broke up, and I was in school, so I stayed here. I never thought I could live on my own and support myself, but after that, I loved it. I didn't want to leave."

 "Living here is really expensive. I originally lived on Haight street in a little room under the stairs. I think I paid 875 a month for it. My door didn't have a turn handle on it, it was a pull handle. I think it used to be the cleaning lady's room. I would sit on my toilet to wash my dishes in the bathroom sink. I shared a room once for 521 dollars. It was by SF state. Now, my living room is my roommate's bedroom and our dining room is our living room. That's one reason our rent's cheaper. I have an awesome room and I am only paying 500 dollars for it!"


As we walk around Golden Gate Park, I am awed by the size and the scope of it. Lawn bowling, golf, museums, a lake, even a carousel. Annabel is originally from Santa Cruz, a "beach town", she tells me. She says living next to the park gives her an opportunity to get away from the craziness of the city.

I'm taking you to the AIDS memorial in the park. Sometimes I feel like I need to get away from the city. When I want to feel like I'm not surrounded, or if I have a stressful day, I'll just go on a walk through here. It is filled with flowers. It is a really cool little hike to go on. I started running here too because there are so many random trails in Golden Gate Park. It's huge! It's my favorite place because it is an escape. I have time to myself to think. Especially living with roommates. There are always people coming in and out of my house. Though I love the city, I am all about flowers and nature. I came down here once, and there were people dancing with rainbow flags. There was music playing and people dancing all over the grove. It was great. You never know what you will find here. There are free concerts, artists bring their work here on weekends to sell, and on 4/20 the celebration on Hippie Hill is fantastic. All the stuff that happens here is great, but I love it because it gives me a place to breathe.

The AIDS memorial is simple and elegant, but quite small, especially when considering the size of the park it resides in. I consider Annabel and the memorial in a similar light. Both are small in the environments which contain them and share a quiet presence of beauty and strength which is both visible and palpable in the air that surrounds them.


Annabel and I walk around the park for a couple of hours, and she describes city life in San Francisco. She tells me about car theft, being kicked off buses, and finding dead people on the street. As she talks, it starts to dawn on me that most of the places that people are planning to take me in this city are "escapes". Like Annabel, it seems the people who live here need a dependable and quick escape from the craziness and the mayhem and the stink of this city.

I think back to my friend Dan's description of San Francisco; laid-back and friendly. I am wondering now if this isn't an observation that is possible because he lives in Walnut Creek. It seems lately that I am meeting a lot of people who need an escape from the city that they love. Most of the people who I have spoken with have a love for this city that approximates religious fervor, but what does it say about a place when its inhabitants' favorite places are places which exist for the sole purpose of getting away from the city they love?

San Francisco and the Humble Home

A big part of coming to San Francisco has been attempting to secure couches to sleep on while I am here.  Up to about a week before I was to leave, I was at a complete loss as to where I would be staying during the length of the 25 days in San Francisco.  Couchsurfer.org was inundated with requests, and all of the hostels were full.  I was coming to a point where I was resolved to sleep in a hammock if I had to. Then, my bff sent out an email to her San Francisco peeps and I was saved by a very kind family who live around the Twin Peaks area.  I knew the wife and mother, (Marcie), of the family unit through a former employer, but I had known her so long ago, and for such a short time in such a limited way, I had all but forgotten about her until she offered to help me out.  Initially she had volunteered to meet with me to show me her San Francisco favorite place, but when I asked her to host me for a few days, she didn't hesitate to help. Staying with her family has been such a wonderful experience.  They are the definition of hospitable, and it has been a joy to be around her children, even when they are shooting each other with silly string and making food for me which can best be described as "experimental".

When Marcie took me to her favorite San Francisco place, it ended up being outside the city in Saratoga, the little town It's a Wonderful Life was set in.  The cheerfully sunny little town is a contradiction to the serious grey fog and hurried atmosphere of the streets of San Francisco.  The specific area is in the hills where she and her husband were married, where her kids go to day camp, and Hakone, the Japanese Garden she took me to, is the place where the two went before they were married, before their kids came, and then, after they had children.  It is a large garden, 18 acres, and is the oldest of its kind in the Western Hemisphere.

Marcie gave me some background on the town and its weather cycles:
"Saratoga and Cupertino have historically had a large Japanese population.  It is a hot mountain town, but it is strange because there is a rain forest not too far from here, and then Santa Cruz to the south, and the beach on the other side, so it gets wickedly hot over here.  Usually, by the end of a day in August, I feel fatigued and sweaty, like I have been working in the fields. I am scorched when I walk out of the door of my office."


As we walk through the small town, I comment that it really is a perfect day, sunny, low 80's with a nice fragrant breeze blowing through.  Marcie replies that this is a bit of a respite from every other year in Saratoga, which is good news to me as I get heat stroke and sun stroke quite easily. Marcie had also lived in Portland for a spell, and drew a similarity between the two places in its siren call to visitors.

"It's like Portland in that if you visit at the right time of the year, you might think it is like this all the time, which it is, really, it just gets so crazy hot in the summer."


Of course, in Portland, it is quite the opposite in that for about three months of the year it is like paradise and for the other nine months, it is grey, cold and quite damp if not outright soaking wet.  On the plus side, it is a rare experience for me to have to worry about sun stroke or heat stroke there.

As we enter the Japanese Garden, its size really strikes me.  While not as perfectly manicured and organized as other Japanese Gardens I have seen, it has a vastness and a rustic quality to it which is stunning.  Marcie tells me how the area and the Japanese Garden in particular has played a significant role in her family's history.

"I have memories of coming here with Michael,(her husband), before we had kids, and coming here with Emily to do the Mom-daughter yoga with her teacher and all our friends.  I have pictures of Emily sitting in a lotus position next to this pond, pictures of her feeding the turtles.  It has been a really nice place for our family.  This Japanese Garden is cool because it is not in a Japanese-like climate as it is very warm and dry. The Garden was built a very long time ago, during old-school times, and this is why it has that quality to it, it is the oldest in the country."

Dying Salamander

As we walk through the gates and onto the gravel path, Marci finds a dying salamander with a blue tail lying on its back.  We go to the Koi pond so that she can put the salamander in it and hopefully resuscitate it.  As we stand and watch, it just floats there, motionless.  It seems that it is dead, and I start wondering if a feeding frenzy won't soon occur between the fish in the pond over the small creature.  To my relief, the Koi seem more preoccupied with the food the tourists are throwing into the pond.  Salamanders are probably too bony for Koi anyway.

As we walk through the rest of the Garden, we are, for the most part, quiet.  It is an irony that I have come to stay with this welcoming family.  Their relationships with each other are just as foreign to me as are the streets of San Francisco.  Living with them for this short period of time has been like a trip to another dimension where parents make time for their children and are thoughtful about how they are raising them.  My home growing up was very a often a place where I was uncomfortable, a place I wanted to be away from as much as possible.  Walking with Marcie through the Japanese Garden, hearing her talk about her family and the thought and love she puts into its cohesion is inspiring.  I am happy to be here, visiting this new place and meeting these new people.  Just as Saratoga contradicts San Francisco, Marcie's family contradicts my experience and memory of my own.  I am comforted by the knowledge of this existence, though I must say, my upbringing has conditioned me for a world that is a bit more serious and grey.  I am lucky to have come to the point where I can appreciate both.

San Francisco and The Field

Dan and I have been friends for over twenty years.  I met him on the other coast when I was 19.  The night we met we got very drunk and did things together which he gleefully reported to me the next day over a hung-over breakfast.  Things I will not ever repeat.  To anyone.  Ever.  Over the course of our twenty-plus year relationship, we have been roommates, best friends, have broken each other's hearts, and have barely been on speaking terms.  As of this writing, we are very good friends, and Dan offered, out of the kindness of his heart, to take me to his favorite San Francisco place, Crissy Field.  Dan works in the oil industry and is incredibly active, skiing, running, biking, surfing, and doing whatever else he can think of in his free time.  To get to Crissy Field, Dan drives through the Presidio, an area which is preceded by woods and consists of a vast expanse of sturdy yellow buildings, all impeccable and bright, which Dan tells me has a history of its own.

"The Presidio is one of my favorite spots. If there was no Presidio, San Francisco would be less cool. Historically, it was the gateway to San Francisco.  It is an old military base.  It was abandoned in the eighties.  The buildings are all apartments, rented out by citizens and taken care of by a trust.  The trust does not allow building here and the only businesses here are sustainable, green businesses."

Dan and I find a parking space and walk down the beach toward the bridge. There are people playing in the water and sitting on the beach.  All kinds of birds are flying about the various marshes, and people walk and run by with their dogs. The fog has lifted and the Golden Gate Bridge is clearly visible.  The Field, the view, and the day are just stunning. Dan takes the opportunity to tell me about the nature of the San Francisco person.

"This is a good running and walking place. San Francisco attracts certain kinds of people, healthy outdoorsy, successful....or not. There is a lot of outdoors stuff to do here. Though I am sure there are a lot of people who move here who don't like the outdoors. But you never see those people because they are indoors. They don't go out."

View of the Bridge from Crissy Field

For as long as I have known Dan, he has been this type of conversationalist. He becomes so entertained by his own monologue that he will contradict what he has said in order to amuse himself. I consider it to be part of his charm, as I too am a person who will say things the the sole purpose of entertaining myself. We walk along the windy beach and Dan tells me about the history of Crissy Field and its important place in U.S. Military History. Like our relationship, Crissy Field has been used for many purposes over its history. It was the first Air Coast Defense Station on the west coast, and between the World Wars, innovation pioneered at Crissy Field was pivotal to the air power which provided victories for the Allies in 1945. Crissy Field is significant because it was where a lot of flying records were set and predates the Air Force. Unfortunately, by the time the Air force was established in 1947, Crissy Air Field had been closed as a first line air base for approximately a year. Dan goes on to tell me why San Francisco is home.

"I have lived here since 2005, and for me, it is the best place. It's a beautiful city, right on the water, it has a good climate, it doesn't get too hot, and it doesn't get too cold either. People are friendly. It's a laid-back place. There is surfing, skiing, and all my friends live here now, except for you, which is temporary."


Ever since our most recent failed attempt at a relationship several month ago, Dan has been trying to convince me to move down to San Francisco from Portland. He keeps telling me, "they are gonna love you here!" I have not yet told him that his indecision about our future was the catalyst for my decision to take my project around the U.S. for the next year. Since I have been here, i have to admit, there is not much that I don't like, even the cold grey August weather is preferable to the heat wave the rest of the country is experiencing. A couple on a rental tandem rolls by and Dan continues.

"It's a good place to ride a bike. There are lots of bike lanes, they have critical mass here, and again, the climate is good for it because it doesn't get too hot. Though, it is hilly, as you have found during your time here. The cycling culture here is healthy because there are a lot of cyclists here who also drive. that helps with bike awareness on the streets.

Dan lives about 14 miles away from his job and rides to work one day of the year, on "Ride Your Bike to Work Day".  I ask him about a community feeling in San Francisco though he lives outside of the city in Walnut Creek.  While he cannot be specific about what goes on in the city regarding community building, he does share what he knows.

Approaching the bridge and Fort Point

"There are many communities in the city, not just one community.  A lot of neighborhoods, and in those neighborhoods there is a feeling of community.  A lot of good society building things going on in all the neighborhoods here."  As he says this, he looks across to the bridge and the adjacent Fort Point and continues, "I am 42, and looking to settle down and have some kids.  I would most likely stay in Walnut Creek because it has a small town feel to it.  It is close to my job, has buses, trains, and is close enough to the city, the ocean and the mountains.  I have lived in many cities all over the world.  Seattle, Portland, Honolulu, Guatemala, Antigua, (I know, it's and island), Pittsburgh, Spain, (I know, not a city), Denver, and here, in San Francisco, and this is the best city, absolutely, by far."


After Dan drops me off, I ruminate on the history of Crissy Field and the history of Dan and Spike. both speak of various stages of usefulness, though have proven outdated when The Big Show actually arrives. Ten years ago, the people of San Francisco got together the time and money to renovate Crissy Field into the beautiful park it is today. Its current iteration serves as a testament to San Franciscans' willingness to participate in community. Similarly, Dan has been a forgiving friend over the course of our many years and relationships has helped me be a better person than I thought I could be. The existence of such a friendship is one which speaks well of both of us. The history of Dan and Spike is not one of ultimate triumph, but of forgiveness, compassion, and trust. This in itself is quite an accomplishment. The Big Show will have to wait for another day.

San Francisco and Two Friends

I am sitting in Squat and Gobble on Haight Street with two creatures I have been seeing all over the streets of San Francisco.  They are tall, beautiful, smart, and young.  Allison and Rebekah, or people like them, are ubiquitous in the downtown area.  Since my arrival, I have been wondering what it takes to be this put together at all times, and what exactly they are so dressed up for. Though they do not come out and say it, they behave as if they are BFFs.  They speak of their shared history with an easy familiarity, and half way through the conversation, they begin finishing each other's sentences.  Squat and Gobble is not their favorite place.  It is, however, much more quiet than the place I had originally met them, The Citrus Club, on Haight.  We are sitting precariously close to a family with children, and Allison has strategically placed herself between her friend Rebekah and the flailing youngsters.  Rebekah likes dogs.

They are trying to give me a feel for what the city is like for its occupants, what they love about the city, and how it fits into their lives in terms of day to day living.  We spoke extensively at The Citrus Club about SF living (don't call it San Fran, only tourists call it that, and Gough is pronounced "Go", not "Goff"), and over and over, what it came to for the two was friends, books and food.

View of Palace of Fine Arts from Crissy Field

Rebekah begins by talking affectionately about Alamo square and the Painted Ladies found there.  It is easy to get to and offers a great view of the city on a clear day. She also likes going to the Palace of Fine Arts on weekends to watch all the women shivering in their brides maid or quinceanera dresses.  Allison tells me about the deYoung museum.  She loves to go there on her days off and weekends and just walk around.  For both of them, in every place they go, it is about watching the people.

"It is kind of like when I cook, Allison says, nibbling on Rebekah's chocolate cake,  "I really love to cook, but I love to cook more when other people can eat it and enjoy it.  It is the same with the museum.  I enjoy it much more when I am with people or see people who are truly enjoying it.  Watching people see things for the first time and being amazed, that brings me joy.  It is fun to sit back and watch people marvel at things that I can see whenever I want" , she continues, "when you drive across the Golden Gate Bridge or go to the Palace of Fine Arts or the deYoung, you appreciate it more, because you know its a place that some people never get to see."  Rebekah adds, "people come from all over the world to see this, from Paris, from London, from Hong Kong to look at this for just two hours, because that's all they have."  


Allison's strawberry crepe arrives, and the two of them tell me about the value being members of the various museums around town brings.  They spend random spare hours walking through halls of fine art, looking at new exhibits at The Exploratorium, The California Academy of Sciences, (the "greenest" museum on the planet), and the MOMA.  They speak at length about the pocket parks in San Francisco, where to get great food for very little money, about the traveling food trucks, (Off the Grid) which appear on different days of the week in different places in the city, and the city's move toward sustainability.  Towards that end, Allison tells me about the Exploratorium's living roof.

"They took the building that was there, which was the aquarium, and rebuilt, basically trying to use as much of the material as possible, and built the rest with sustainable products.  They also used captured rainwater for the irrigation of the plants and flowers on the roof. San Francisco is really making strides to be green.  The music festival alone, (Outside Lands music festival), all the plates, cups, forks, spoons, everything is biodegradable."  


I ask them about what they like to do with people from out of town, and Rebekah offers a strategy that takes care of many points of interest with one outing.

"One of my favorite things to do with tourists is go down to the ferry building and get bread, cowgirl creamery cheese and maybe some coffee, and walk up and take the California street cable car which goes all the way to the top.  We get off at Van Ness and walk two blocks to Lafayette Park and have a picnic.  On a clear day you can see everything from there, Alcatraz, the bridges, and the bay."  Allison adds, "really, San Francisco is just about getting with a lot of good people, sitting down, and eating, and then maybe doing something active after." 


The conversation evolves into one about transportation and how the women get around the city.  This is of special interest to me as I am not one who puts much thought into how I will appear when I arrive, only that I will get there on my own propulsion.  It is clear that San Francisco is an active city.  You can't walk two blocks without passing someone jogging, biking or carrying a yoga mat.  Rebekah tells me how the two of them get around in different situations.  Evidently, one needs extra shoes to go almost anywhere in this town.  Rebekah and Allison start speaking in a cadence much like my uncle Ed and aunt Dot used to do when they were quite old, completing each other's thoughts.


Rebekah begins,"we walk to places a lot.  We may walk four blocks, and to us, that is not a walk worth mentioning, but tons of other people see that as a hardship. Allison interjects, "we walk everywhere.  I'm a big fan of extra shoes."  Emphasizing her point, Rebekah adds, "how many pairs of shoes do I have with me right now?  Three!  I don't like to wear uncomfortable shoes if I know I'm going to be doing a lot of walking.  Toms are so light, thin and small they are easy to carry, you don't have to worry about them."  

Woman walking briskly in SF.

The conversation about shoes leads into the inevitability of the need to appear appropriately dressed for any situation.  Allison explains,"if you are going from work to somewhere else, you still want to look professional."  Rebekah tells me,"I will stop a half block from my destination and take off my Toms and put on my heels again, so I can walk in in my heals." Allison continues,"you don't see people in tennis shoes, you see them in flats.  Something that will still go with the outfit, because you never know where you are going to end up and who you are going to run into.  Because it's such a small city, you end up running into people.  You never know if you will run into someone you work with, or, maybe, see them with a client."  Rebekah adds,"Its one thing if you are clearly on your way to or from the gym, but, in any other situation, you have to prepare for anything.  It's such a small town, you don't know if you are going to run into someone from the industry you want to be in, or the industry that you are in." 


Allison specifically defines the practicality of having to look professional almost everywhere you go, and the opportunities you can have if you are so prepared.


"Everything is considered networking here."  Rebekah nods and says, emphatically,"Everything."  Allison continues, "especially in the economy that we're in.  People are either looking for something more stable, or that job that they actually want to do.  You never know.  When my boyfriend lost his job, we were all networking to see what was out there for him.  People are really responsive to this too. People get interviews that way."  Rebekah does a lot of networking, which she says helps those around her quite a bit, "I'm constantly introducing people through networking.  It has never been especially helpful for me, networking-wise, but I have met a lot of people who I have introduced to a lot of other people."


As Allison and Rebekah go to work on Allison's strawberry crepe, my mind drifts to meals I have shared with my own BFF in Portland.  It is very nice, sitting here with these two women who initially seemed so different from me and feeling welcome.  I ask them about where they live and if they like living in the city, and while both of them offer and immediate and emphatic, "yes", Allison talks about the downside of living in such a small city where space is at a premium.

"My boyfriend and I live in a box.  Literally, one room.  The thing about that is that you live in such a small space, it is impossible to have people over.  I know people who don't even use their kitchens simply because they are so small.  They use their stoves for storage."  Rebekah explains how she deals with living in a studio apartment.  "I have a restaurant by my place that I refer to as "my living room" because when people come over, I just bring them there. You can get wine, beer, food.  I don't have my own living room, so we just go there."  For both of the ladies, this is an easy trade off for what you get in return. Rebekah offers,"there is not a lot in San Francisco that is unattainable.  Most of the activities and the places to eat are well within reach.  It's not like after six years of saving you can go to the Opera, and you can still see a great band for an eight dollar cover." 


We sit around the table, plates empty, and chat a bit more before leaving.  At the end of the evening, we walk down Haight together, Allison towards her car, Rebekah to the bus stop, and I in the direction of my bike.  Both women offer to hang out with me at some point during the remainder of my stay.  Such a compliment, coming from these very funny, smart women.  I accept, we all hug and then, part ways.  As I walk to my bike I consider the trade-offs involved in living in this particular city.  I myself have a very long bike ride ahead of me to get to my temporary home in the Glen Park neighborhood.  Even if I don't end up lost in the windy roads around Twin Peaks, it will take roughly just short of an hour for me to get there on my inefficient-but-sturdy rental bike.  I think about familiarity and the value of community and how good it feels to have someone around who can finish your sentences for you.  I can't imagine any amount of space or stuff being equal to it.

San Francisco and The View from The Roof

I was introduced to Matt through my friend Booger.  The first conversation we ever had was on the phone.  He offered to have me stay at his house if I needed to.  It just so happened that I needed to, and the offer provided me an opportunity to stay in Stinson Beach over the first weekend that I was in San Francisco.  Matt is a good cook.

Later that week, Matt met me at the corner of California and Taylor, in front of Grace Cathedral, to take me to his favorite San Francisco place.  Matt is a fully bearded, handlebar mustached man of 39, who, one year ago, hit the side mirror of a car on a darkened street off Upper Haight.  A near-death incident, Matt has been spending the last year recuperating and sorting out the remainder of his life.  Matt was very clear about where he would be taking me.

Several blocks from the Cathedral, Matt and I slide into a small elevator in an old building where he used to live. Matt hits "4", and the creaky elevator starts to ascend.  It stops, we step out and round the nearest corner.  Matt points out his old apartment down a short and starkly lit narrow hallway.

"That was my apartment right there, number 401.  I tore that thing apart and totally rebuilt it. I took out a wall and a bunch of other stuff."


We turn in the other direction and Matt leads me up a narrow flight of stairs to the roof.  The sky opens up above us and the sounds from the street rise to meet our ears.  We walk toward the ledge and Matt points to the fire escape.


"I would always get locked out, so I would just come up here, crawl down the fire escape, and if I just rattled the window, it would open."

We sit down at the front end of the building on the roof, Matt pulls out his bag, and starts rolling a joint. Then, he tells me why the roof of this old building is his favorite place.

"San Francisco, when I first met it, scared the absolute shit out of me.  I am from Wisconsin.  I was 19 the first time I came here. I was in the army, and being from a little suburb north of Milwaukee, I had never really seen anything but German people.  So me and my buddy pull off into the Mission, and its all Mexicans and Salvadorians and Latin peoples, and it was just overwhelming." 


"The traffic, getting here on the freeway, and the difference of all the people was overwhelming to me.  Which, frankly, is one of the things that I like about Portland. The lack of diversity.  It's totally not challenging there.  So I moved from San Francisco, circuitously to Portland.  There was a little China in there, a little Wisconsin, but I was overwhelmed by the energy of San Francisco at that point.  Back then, I really liked being in situations where you knew what to expect around every corner. In Portland, there's no real surprises."

It takes all of my energy to not make fun of Matt for being from Wisconsin. As an Illinois-an, I have made this enjoyable and relaxing activity a part of my life, and for some reason I feel comfortable enough with Matt to be able tease him mercilessly. But Matt is very earnest.  He tells me about his relationship with the city with his entire being.  He is electrified, and I just can't find it in me to make fun of him in this state.


"When I moved here, specifically, I had spent lots of time in the woods, and I came from this background of not really loving the city, you know, being overwhelmed by it. I would come up here in the 90s to those underground raves to do a bunch of ecstasy and play around at those parties. I never thought San Francisco was where I wanted to live.  I wound up moving up to San Francisco because one of my friends from Wisconsin was living here at a crack house I moved into.  I thought I would just hang out with him, stop being a carpenter, and go to Academy of Art and do their furniture design program.  I figured I would still work with wood, but I wasn't going to be on job sites, living the nine to five, 40 plus hour a week thing." 

"Well, I wound up back in construction, doing the regular thing. I couldn't afford to go to Academy of Art. This place when I first moved in to it was 12 hun a month, and after they saw what I did to it, they raised it to 17 hundred a month.  I just went back into the same thing, but the time that I spent here was probably the most significant growth period of my life.  The years I lived here, right below us, is when I developed my career, you know, who I am professionally. I developed my relationship with cardiovascular exercise as a component of my commute.  This place was pivotal in all of those different things, so the seven years that I spent in this building, exploring the city and really understanding it and becoming one with it were really important to me. I would come up here (to the roof) all the time at night and just think, wow, look at this big, beautiful, amazing city." 


Matt breathes in deeply.  His smile is quiet as he looks up at the early evening sky.  Then he looks at me. After he exhales, he tells me about The Bloodhead.

"This is where my dog, The Bloodhead, lived with me.  She died in this apartment.  Good fuckin' place.  The day that The Bloodhead died, I was building manager and I had gone downstairs to go deal with something in this little shop space that I had, and when I came up, she was dead.  Lying in the chair, dead, you know?  She was an old dog, and of course it was hard for me, and I didn't have a car, so I was trying to figure out how I was going to get her to the vet.  I couldn't get into a cab because I was too messed up.  So, I wrapped her in plastic and slid her into my wilderness backpack. My sixty-five pound Pit bull- I threw her on my back, walked out the door, tears pouring down my face, lookin' kinda homeless and wierded out, and walked two and a half miles to the vet. I stopped at a Starbucks on the way, because I felt like I needed something to bring a little bit of comfort into my life.  So with a dead Pit bull in my backpack, I walk into Starbucks to get a coffee, and everyone is lookin' at me kinda weird, but no one knows there is a dead dog in my bag. Then, I am crossing a one-way street beyond it, and a car flies around the corner and almost hits me, and I just start laughing. If that car would have hit me, the ambulance drivers would have found a dead dog in my backpack.  It was the most hilarious thing." 


In the streets below, a car's horn honks loudly.  Matt listens, and says to the sky, "oh, man the sounds of this place too, I love the sounds of it." 


We talk a little bit more about growing up in Wisconsin, the innocent upbringing that provided, and his babysitter, who he had a crush on. He tells me she was "trouble", and that he is attracted to women like her.


"Ive always dated girls who were trouble.  I'm a little bit of trouble myself, I guess.  So I figure I probably shouldn't impose my insanity on somebody sane."  


When I ask Matt why he turned out to be trouble, being raised in Wisconsin and all, his response, after mentioning several bad influences in his youth, comes to this:  "Rock and Roll's what made me a bad seed, Rock and Roll's what did it to me, baby!"  After the both of us crack up laughing, he says, "oh man, I'm so glad I got to say that."

San Francisco and High Art

I was impressed with her before I met her. When I started setting something up to meet with Kelly, I went to a link to her blog, and then to her portfolio and was a bit intimidated by her, well, her life.  She is living a life I have always coveted; an urban life in a great city in a creative industry.  Not only that, she wanted to meet me at a Gallery opening at 941 Geary as her favorite San Francisco place. The opening; The City We Love, a modest sampling of local Graffiti and street art culture. My biggest concern for this meeting would be to not behave like too much of a dork.

I arrive at the crowded gallery just before nine. As I lock my bike up to a pole out front, I am thankful it is only a rental and not worth much. The gallery is in the Tenderloin district; if my bike were of any value, all I would be returning to at the end of the night would be random pieces of bike locked to a pole. I duck into the gallery and look around.  It is not long before I find Kelly talking to a very tall and incredibly stunning woman. After we introduce ourselves, Kelly reaches into a brown bag she is holding and says, "I brought you a beer." Now, I am even more impressed.


I look around. It seems like almost every other person is also holding a brown bag and consuming some sort of alcohol. There are large canvases on the walls, and in some places, bricks and bananas on the floor. The people in the room are from every social class; rich people, skate kids, photographers, gallery geeks, hipsters, hippies, and even a few who look like they might be street people. I start to relax a bit after I survey the crowd. Kelly and Kirsten the Beautiful (as it turns out, an Australian woman and the Gallery owner's wife) are talking, so I take the opportunity to survey the show.

Notice the bottle of wine the guy on the left is holding

It is incredibly crowded and I keep bumping people with my backpack and helmet. I step on one woman's toes twice. As I walk around, I can't decide what is more interesting, the art, or the people in the room. I give up on trying not to behave like a dork. With my polka-dot helmet and pig tails, I might as well be holding a sign. After I look around, Kelly and I take an opportunity to find a corner and chat. Here, by the large garage door leading to the alley and the food carts within it, she tells me why 941 Geary, as well as White Walls and Shooting Gallery, are her favorite SF places.

"Shooting Gallery and White Walls bring some of the most amazing artists in the city together in one place. You see everyone from celebrities to high end people who can obviously afford the art in here, to the kids in the mission, to all the artist's friends. Everybody has an identity in this city. I also think that San Francisco doesn't get a lot of credit for the art scene, obviously much bigger cities do, but I think we have some really incredible people here.  It is one of the scenes in the city that is really vibrant with an incredible amount of talent."

I ask her what's up with the alcohol in brown bags. I assume it's concept-driven to enhance the show, but it turns out I am being a bit too "high-art-minded".

"You gotta love the brown bags everywhere.  I have always loved that.  It is a way around city code.  You have to have a license to provide alcohol.  If you bring it, it's cool, it's legit. I go to a fair number of openings, but it's always a good time. It's about the people who come, how casual the space is, like going over to a friend's house." 


After Kelly introduces me to gallery owner Justin Giarla, I tell him about my project. After I explain the sponsorship strategy for it, he grabs a bunch of money out of his pocket and hands it to me.  I guess he is a sponsor now. Later, Kelly tells me how she and her husband Peter became friends with Justin and Kirsten.

"We have been going to Shooting Gallery, White Walls and 941 Geary for a long time.  We ran into the gallery owners in between their neighborhood and our neighborhood, in the dog patch, at Serpentine which is one of my favorite restaurants.  We recognized them and did a double take, and decided to fuck it and just say hi and we had dinner together. They are so chill and cool.  They are super nice and super welcoming."  

I am standing in this spectacular gallery, talking to this amazing person with an ideal life. Then, she says something that shocks me.

"There is a huge possibility I would leave San Francisco.  It can be a little small sometimes. I think the city is really beautiful and lovely. 
Architecture and design-wise, it is a little bit difficult in a small city.  It can be a little conservative.  I can see myself being back in Los Angeles, but, there are several places I could be.  Though, I am married, too, so Los Angeles is probably the only viable city for the both of us."


I cannot believe my ears. How could you ever leave this Utopia? This Island of Cool in a sea of normalcy?
  

"San Francisco is an incredibly difficult city to work with.  Not that that should stop you, you can just be a little bit more creative with the interpretations of things.  You battle a lot of people.  You battle neighborhood groups who think that things should stay the way they are, you battle people who think that the city should be all Victorians, you battle groups who think you are taking away homes from other people.  All of these come together and sometimes can be the perfect storm to prevent progress, at least in architecture.  It hasn't actually stopped, because obviously we have had some amazing breakthroughs in the past few years, we do have some people who are doing some amazing work.  But, there is not as much support here as there is in a city like, say, Los Angeles, where it is a bit more open-minded.  Los Angeles has more of a pushing the envelope type of mentality."


As she tells me how she might do better in L.A., my heart sinks into my colon. I can actually see her point. It hadn't occurred to me that new design and ideas might be feared in what I see as one of the most progressive cities in the U.S. 

The lights in the gallery start to go off, and Peter, Kelly and I depart. Kelly asks me if I like Martinis, to which I reply, "who doesn't?" She tells me that they are taking me to Bix, a supper club in the Jackson Square/Barbary Coast area of the city.

After a lot of stop and go driving, we arrive. The stark contrast between where we have been and where we are going hits me as Kelly and I walk through the door at Bix. Everything from the woodwork to the artwork to the martini glasses chilling in a silver bowl of ice on the bar is old-school elegant. My first inclination is to take out my camera, but I stop when I see a guy to my right taking pictures of himself at the bar. If ever there was a place to be cool, this was it. Instead of taking pictures I decide it is better to stare with my mouth open at all the swanky people and beautiful details of this amazing supper club. Kelly and I are lucky to score some seats at the bar. Kelly orders us all gin martinis. Peter is driving around the city looking for a place to park. I am still looking at everything with my mouth wide open. The Jazz trio plays a mellow tune. After Peter arrives, we talk a bit about Peter and Kelly and their cool San Francisco life.


A little later, two of Kelly and Peter's friends join us there for cocktails, and we sit around talking for a while. As we talk, I have intermittent thoughts of surprise and gratitude. I can't believe how lucky I am to be able to drop in on their lives.  This has by far been my most exciting and wonderful night in San Francisco.

At the end of the night, Kelly and Peter drop me off at my bike in the Tenderloin and stay long enough to watch me unlock it and safely take off in the direction they have pointed me in. I ride home through the cold night air to my new couch in the Mission. Though many have warned me against it, I am not scared. Life and the light of the full moon on the streets of San Francisco are all I need to make me feel at home in this dimensional and beautiful city.

San Francisco and the Big Hill

I am pedaling to the Mission District to meet Kate Blake at her apartment and go to her favorite place in San Francisco. Kate takes her dog for a walk in this place every day in between working from home as a Career and Small Business coach. I met her at the Green Drinks event I went to the first day I arrived in town.  I was introduced to her by a man who introduced himself as someone who helps women find true love.  He said he had tried to work with men, but kept coming up against the same problem over and over: they didn't get it.  I am still not sure how his career figures into sustainability, (Green Drinks is a networking event for those in the sustainability industry), but, that is a relatively small concern in comparison to my questions regarding his chosen profession.

As I ride my sturdy bike through the streets of the Mission District, I am thrilled to see all sorts of small businesses in the store fronts and people on the streets.  There are fresh fruit and vegetable bins outside of small markets on the corners. Delicious aromas mingle with the smells and sounds that define the air of a big city.  I am thrilled to see the sun. I have been living in a place in the city where the fog hangs with the tree tops and the cold air settles on your skin like an afghan.  The sun whispers warm liberation, and I take off my jackets and my neck warmer, (yes, two jackets, and yes, neck warmer), in order to feel it on more of my incredibly white and neglected skin.

I arrive a bit early and wait outside of Kate's building.  Soon enough she comes out to get me and brings me back to her studio apartment.  It is very small, but incredibly comfortable and warm.  She moves quickly and grabs a jacket and her dog and we are out the door, hiking at what feels like lightning speed, up some very steep streets to an even steeper hill. Evidently, we are hiking up Bernal Hill. I have to crane my neck way back as I look up at it. As I lag along behind her, I am breathing heavily and notice that the dog is also lagging behind.  She keeps a pretty swift pace as she tells me about her living and working situation.

"I live in that tiny little studio apartment and work from there as well, so my desk is also my dining room table and my bureau, my laundry folding table and everything else.  It's nice in the middle of the day to go to a place to quiet your brain and your space and breathe.  I get out of the stress of the day, get out of whatever might not be working. I get up there and remember that I live in a really sweet place.  I'm in this amazing city and I can see it all from there. As a bonus, I get some exercise."

Exercise indeed.  I am still lagging behind her, and she is keeping up her Bataan Death March pace.  Her dark curls bouncing wildly in the wind as she walks, we talk for a bit about her career path and how she came to it. Her story is eerily similar to my own, the only difference being that she has stopped and settled, and I have not.


"I work primarily with women who aren't sure what they want in their career.  Culturally, we're taught to look outside of ourselves and find the right job. That we'll figure out what we want by chance. No one ever tells us that we have these gifts, things about each one of us that make us unique, a little different, things that come naturally to us that get us excited. Using those things and tapping into our strengths is what makes a great career. That's the work I do with people, how to figure that out, set goals, and actually accomplish what you want for yourself.     

"I love having my own business, being able to help people.  I have been doing this for three years, and much like many of my clients, before that, I wasn't sure what I wanted.  So I would keep myself busy, moving a lot, having all this external stimulation of a new town, getting an MBA, moving to Argentina for a while, teaching English, working for an NGO. After a while all that running gets old, and at some point you have to stop and deal with your own junk."  


We finally reach the top of the hill, and we sit and rest a bit as her dog goes to find some shade.  Breathless, I ask her why she has chosen San Francisco to settle in.


"For a long time, I felt like I was only really happy if I lived overseas.  I would think that I was the best version of me when I was totally excited, wandering down some random street, eating some food that I didn't even know what it was, hearing some language that I didn't recognize.  I thought I could only be happy in other cities.  Now, I don't think that's true.  I think we can look at life in that way from wherever we are.  That's part of what makes me who I am, it's not about where it is that I am located.  San Francisco is very diverse, lots of people from all over the world.  I think that is part of the reason that I live where I live in the city.  The Mission is a bit like living in a foreign country. I walk three blocks though and can be right back in North America."


We talk about the segmentation of San Francisco, and about the Mission district.  We discuss movement between the districts and the idea that the neighborhood you choose ends up being an expression of some segment of your personality.  Not surprisingly, she thinks her neighborhood is the best area in the city.


"The Mission is most definitely the best part of the city.  It's warm, awesome restaurants and food, and tons of culture. There is always something happening."

"People tend to hang out in the neighborhood where they live. So they kinda rotate in circles in their part of the city. I am never in the Marina or Twin Peaks, for example. Your neighborhood tends to be a reflection of the kind of person that you are, so it depends on who you are and what matches you the best.  


I finally catch my breath, but it is too windy to take off my jacket in order to soak up much of the sun. I ask Kate about a feeling of community in the Mission, and she attributes it to the background of the people who have migrated there.


"Latin culture tends to have more of a feeling of community for me. Neighbors talk to each other, there are tons of people walking around on the streets, and people sitting on their stoops. I love the fact that, having lived overseas and traveled so much, I do feel at home here.  I don't have that feeling in a lot of U.S. cities, probably because of the lack of diversity of language and culture. As big as San Francisco can feel, this neighborhood gives me a sense of connection.  Here in the Mission there are great taquerias, mercados, street fairs and parades. It's a vibrant community."


Though brisk, the day is bright and hopeful, which is mirrored in Kate's attitude.  It seems that a lot of people come to San Francisco by different and exotic routes, but in the end, all come together within this small city to create something they can feel good about, something they can belong to.  Kate sums it up perfectly:


"People who live in San Francisco LOVE San Francisco.  They love the city, they love the culture, the feel to it, the weather, and living here. Anywhere you live, it is more about what you make of it.  At the end of the day, it is all just your perspective and the way you are looking at it.  If you change your mind a little bit, anywhere can be awesome.  Any job can be awesome, any relationship."