NO PICS IN THIS POST - I'VE LOST ONE OF MY CD-ROMS WITH PICS OF OAKLAND AND SAN FRANCISCO ON THEM. DAMN!
G'day,
Here I sit, literally, in San Francisco California, and metaphorically, on Cloud Nine.
I knew before I got here that I'd have a great time and that I'd love this city. Before I came to the United States, I honestly didn't have that much of an excitement within me to visit, however there were some spots that did excite me. San Francisco was one of them. Much like the Pacific Northwest, there is an palpable energy here, a vibe, a feeling that just draws me in.
I flew in here on August 28th, hung out for 2 days, then skipped out to the sensational "Burning Man" festival out in the Nevada desert (a separate entry will follow exclusively about this mad mad time and event!), and have been back here for a week - since September 5th. I leave tomorrow, finally, after finding it oh-so-difficult to drag myself away from this city.
My arrival in The City was kinda fraught with struggle to begin with. I have accumulated quite a lot of 'stuff', otherwise known as 'crap', since I arrived in Vancouver, but its crap that I can't bear to part with. Hence, I had to purchase a new suitcase to carry it all, and have managed to fill it too.
So, picture this - one large suitcase, full and heavy. one large rucksack, full and heavy. one sports/duffel bag, full and heavy. one Tony with one good arm. Now do the math. All was good getting to and checking stuff in at Vancouver Airport via cab and trolley, as was getting out of SFO Airport onto the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) Train into downtown. I had to leave my saviour the airport trolley behind as I got on the train, and so my problems began after getting off at Powell Street station downtown.
The train network is underground in The City, and so getting to street level was problematic, especially as the elevators were out of order. So once again, picture in your mind a crippled Tony, with a suitcase on wheels, balancing the rucksack and duffel bag on top, trying to wangle himself onto an upwards escalator to the mezzanine level. Then, picture the look of distress on my face when seeing the next flight of escalators working only in a downwards rotation, and a flight of stairs to deal with. Thankfully, a young black kid was kind enough to assist me in getting to street level.
From here it got interesting. My game plan for SF was to stay with another couch-surfing contact, Brad and Jacqueline, but they were in Oakland, a small city away across the East Bay, and they had emailed me to say that they were spending the weekend in Seattle and wouldn't be back until late that evening Sunday night. Okay, that's cool, I'll just find my way to the Green Tortoise Backpacker's Hostel, the group I would be heading to Burning Man with, and stash my luggage there until I can get out to Oakland. Easier said than done.
My map indicated that from where I was, the hostel was about 15 blocks away, and looking in that direction, it was all uphill on one of SF's famed steep-as-hell hilly streets. Now, I could have easily got a cab there and problem solved. But, being the beginning of my trip, I didn't want to spend outlandish amounts of cash on a cab in peak hour traffic, and I was being stupidly stubborn - as I can be sometimes. All I needed was to get to the Tourist Info office and find out what bus or tram I needed to get there. It was 2 blocks away, and so I struggled that two blocks in 20minutes, my luggage balancing act coming undone at least twice in that time, only to find that, because it was Sunday, the Tourist Info office closed at 3pm.
I was just about to finally concede and get a cab at this point, when an old, homeless, but well-dressed black guy approached me asking if I needed a hand, in exchange for 'a couple of dollars'. This was the second offer of assistance I'd had in the space of an hour, and was glad to accept. This guy's name was Greg, he was in his 60's, and in his words 'homeless, but I have my dignity', hence his clean-shaven, blazer-wearing appearance. His 'beat' was to hang around the Tourist office and offer help to newly-arrived's like me. So Greg lugs my rucksack on to his back, grabs my sportsbag and motions me to follow him onto a tramcar, and then a bus up the hill, which ran straight into a peak-hour traffic jam, the likes of which I was hoping to avoid in a cab. Better to be stuck in a traffic jam on $1.25 bus than in a meter-ticking-over cab!
Finally hitting the hostel, I paid Greg $5 for his services and collapsed on a sofa in the hostel lounge.
The weather outside was sensational, and so as it was approaching sunset, I decided to take a more relaxed look around the neighbourhood of North Beach. With the San Francisco Bay only 5 blocks down the hill, I decided to grab a slice of pizza and a beer and watch the sunset behind the Oakland Bay Bridge down on the Pier 26. Soaking it all in, I remember thinking "This is it, here I am, welcome to San Francisco Tony!" Yay!!
Brad finally picked me up some time after Midnight at the hostel. I was slumped on a chair, dead to the world asleep when he arrived, absolutely knackered after a long, long day.
So, Brad and Jacqueline live in Oakland, a neighbouring city of SF, good 30 minute drive over the Bay Bridge away. They had kindly offered up their home for 2 nights via the CouchSurfing website I have come to like sooo much. They had travelled themselves around SouthEast Asia, and so we that much in common at least and swapped some pretty cool travel tales.
Oakland has previously had a reputation of being a bit rough, a bit ghetto-ish, mainly because of it's high black and Latino population, but in all appearances to me, it seems to be getting better. Actually I quite liked Oakland. I only had one full day to spend there, but it's small enough in size to be able to cover the key spots on foot, like the Victorian Row, a stretch of 1860's era architecture, and Jack London Square down on the docks. This area was named after the famous author who spent quite a bit of time writing (Sea Wolf and Call Of The Wild) in bars in the area. Although I had personally not heard of him, I felt obliged to have an honorary pint in the 'First and Last Chance Saloon', where sailors had thier first and last chance to have a drink before departing and arriving on the merchant ships that left this port.
From here I wandered thru some of the more 'ghetto' areas of the city, including right by the jail and a series of bail-bond stores and shady looking attorneys' offices where bail-released criminals could get thier bond covered. The most classic business I saw had a hott-ed up sedan painted with the slogan "Bad Boy's Bail Bonds - Because Your Momma Wants You Home" !! I took a pic of this, then skedaddled out of there just in case they didn't like the likes of me snapping pics of thier business!
Lake Merritt, right in down town Oakland, is the cities' visual centrepiece, and as sunset approached I watched as the 'necklace of lights' circling the lake, shine on. Quite romantic really.
Next day tho, I had to part-the-ways with Oakland, Brad and Jacqueline, and cruise around SF for the day before leaving for Burning Man. Spending the day on foot in The City is A LOT OF FUN!! I swear I covered so much ground and did so much stuff. Of course the obligatory ride on the cable car, and running after one, pretending to chase it up the hill, like i've seen done in so many movies was pretty funny, and fun!
There is so much history here too. North Beach was an epicentre of Beat culture from the 1950's, where the likes of Jack Kerouac and William Ginsberg and William S Burroughs hung out. Being the counter-cultural junkie that I am, I just had to go and have a drink at Vesuvio's, and then right next door, the world-famous and seminal bookstore where legendary beat-poetry readings and jazz gigs happened, was The City Lights Bookstore. A purchase had to be made so that later on in my life, I can say I was there. And down the hill is an amazing copper-plated 1905 building which is owned by Francis Ford Coppola. Had to have a drink at the street level cafe there as well. Paying homage, that's what its all about!
A quick jaunt thru Chinatown and a photo stop at "The World's crookedest street", Lombard Street rounded out my downtown visitations, before I jumped on a streetcar all the way out to the Mission district. This is another suburb heaving with history, arts and culture of the hippie-alternative slant, an area busrting at the seams with cool and funkyfied bars, clubs, shops and street art. It's also where one of my favourite bands, Spearhead, have their headquarters. The lead singer Michael Franti heads up the non-profit organisation Power To The Peaceful, who were putting on a free festival in Golden Gate Park on September 10th, this year with the Iraqi war-related slogan "Bring 'Em Home".
This year would be the 7th Annual event for this festival, and I've known about it for about 3 years, and have always wanted to go. And they were looking for volunteers. So while I was in Mission, I popped in to the office and offered my services. It was the least I could do. I am so full of admiration for Franti and what he does, that I just wanted to put something into this festival as well as getting something out of it. Ditto for this trip. My holiday, my life, is not just about me enjoying myself.
So that, along with a 2 or 3 pints at one of the aforementioned funky bars in Mission, nicely rounded out my day. Back to the hostel next, where I was bound for the most amazing festival on the planet (well, that I have been to at least!)
More to come soon,
Tony
No comments:
Post a Comment