The Roam Chronicles: San Francisco Diaries, Version 1.06

In the Background: Feelin' Good (Six Feet Under Original TV Soundtrack), by Nina Simone

January 20th - 24th, 2006

*For this trip and for the upcoming move, I gave in and purchased this Bay Area guide for newbies.



After being ragged on for my industrial-sized Samsonite hard case, my friends/co-workers wished me well for this trip, which was meant to be a mix of work and play/roam. Was heading to San Francisco on the Friday afternoon of January 2oth, when the last minute preparations left me a bit hectic. Calmness followed soon thereafter - after, that is, the mere 3o-minute window in line for security check pre-boarding.

I got into the city around 7pm, having mentally planned out my weekend agenda in my head through the shuttle ride. Finally arrived at the hotel, situated conveniently on Geary Street, by Union Square- everything I needed was within a 5 block (or so) radius.



Always have loved this city: It always feels familiar and new at the same time, most everytime I visit. I walked up and down the streets/hills and silently mused at how defined my calves will be if I get into this routine when I move here. Talk of weather overrated?: It was 65 degrees, on average and I was warm in my light overcoat. In January. I'm still from Boston, so I refuse to hear from anybody the sheer triviality of why I was beaming about this.

A Tale of Two Cities

Boston and San Francisco, from what I have heard once (and actually once again on this trip), are supposedly "sister cities," due to familar culture, general economy and social structures. (Not to mention that they are consistently in the top 10 lists of sorts: Most Expensive, Riskiest Housing Markets, etc.) Therefore, this billboard promoting travel between coasts should not be all too surprising, right?

Roam

I attempted to mix in some play time with the work weekend. Saturday afternoon, after hopping from one coffee shop to another in the pursuit of a wi-fi connection, I welcomed several servings of strong non-Starbucks brews and good conversation (something that I find to come easily among most Bay Area folk.). I was not able to go to as many prospective residential areas as I aimed for, but did get a better idea of what some areas have to offer over others.

1. Pacific Heights / Marnina / Cow Hollow
[Craigslist's Current Average Rent for a 1BDR or Studio: $1850)]
From most of the people whom I have asked, in terms of the best area to live within the SF City radius is Pac Heights.... and I could see why. Beautiful houses, pockets of nice shops, easy access to the city, fun bars. Cousins treated me to drinks/dinner at Ace Wasabi's Rock and Roll Sushi. One bite of that macadamia crusted kamikaze roll (?)... (Argh. Jen, what was the name of that sushi?!) and you're hooked (or hit with menu amnesia). Right next to our table was actually another transplant from Boston. He apparently moved to San Fran after having had enough of the east coast... but was just visiting California and currently residing in Sidney. Funny how Massholes (his words, not mine) gravitate towards each other.

Art-deco high rises, houses with hidden gardens and stylish interior, relatively high-end range of neighbors, and your quintessential corner pattiserie. What's holding me back, aside from the anticipated sticker shock? While it is considered to be one of the most beautiful, lively areas to live in, as reflective of average rent - doesn't negate the fact that it used to be a landfill, primarily from the debris caused by earthquake and fire. Homes were renovated in the 1920's, only to have a similar fate hit the town on 1989.

The Handbook says: "Following the disaster, many of the old-timers high-tailed it away from the landfill and young people, perhaps less cognizant of their own mortality, moved in, creating a vibrant area along Chesnut Street...."

2. Sunset District
A comfortable city near the UCSF campus, a short drive to Ocean Beach, wonderful views... next door to Golden Gate Park where I found myself possibly running around as I do by Charles River.... beautiful, relatively kinder-priced neighborhood and wonderful cafes - I thought I found the place to be.

That until I was told of the following reasons:
* While it is still within the realm of San Francisco cities, it is quite far to where I need to be for work (Downtown, SOMA area).
* Suburb-like quiet area (even with the University around?)
* Dubbed to be the foggiest area, colder than most by the bay. The views are stunning as soon as the fog lifts, supposedly - but living here means that I cannot quite give my thick wool sweaters to Salvation Army just yet.

Walked around Golden Gate Park on Sunday afternoon and asked a kind lady for directions where to best take picures of the bridge. Pat Preble was in the middle of taking photos of trees and light, when I interrupted. We walked towards where good scenic areas might be and talked about art, her Open Studio online, an eye for camera angles and Boston/San Francisco being sister cities. Mentioned how talkative New York transplants are in the area and northerners seem to be more aloof. Some are friendly, I said... "A very select few."



3. North Beach
My own tradition: Get a book from the City Lights Bookstore every time I vist. This time around, I picked up another one by Milan Kundera.

Not a bad thought to wake up to the aroma of foccacia bread baking in the morning. Newspaper in hand, stroll down a local coffee shop that serves fresh brew without the all-too-familiar green and brown cup and sleeve. Not feeling the usual eggs-bacon-toast kind of breakfast? Walk 2 blocks to Montgomery and catch dimsum in Chinatown. I don't think I'll be needing a car here - everything I need seems to be within 2 (olive oil and garlic scented) blocks. The culture that was at North Beach still remained to this day, some percentage of it that is... for while the general feel of the area spells of the beat generation that once populated it - I did not find a lot of beret-and-birkenstock wearing townfolk screaming "Down with mainstream ideology!"

* Eh... Used Whaat?

So why not North Beach? I need that balance of quiet and activity. Jazz bars, restuarants, Chinese New Year's Day (week long!) Parades - sounds appealing... not on days when I feel like winding down. Of course, there's also the $$$ reason and the cah pahking issue.



I still have a few areas that I need to look into: Lower Nob Hill, South of Market, Russian Hill (Holy high hills on this area! Imagine.... I'll roll back to the bottom on my way back home from a quick trip to the convenience store. ) It is all starting to feel real - that a change is to happen soon. Excited, but still somewhat in denial to start a countdown. Knowing me, June 2006 will roll around before I know it and I'll still be asking someone to pass the Rice-a-Roni.

In Puris Naturalibus... Veritas

In the background: Little District (Sublime Acoustic: Bradley Nowell & Friends album), by Sublime

It was a pleasantly (uncharacteristically) warm January night in Cambridge last Friday. After resorting ourselves to sore muscle arms from rock climbing, we attacked some good pizza, etc. at Cambridge 1.
No, that was not quite enough: Emily and I were on a mission for ice cream. Toscanini's was already closed for the night, but we didn't fret. Plan B dessert places were abound over there, so we headed towards Finale.

We walked past several of the Harvard gates, heard screams and loud cheers. Initally brushed it off as typical college craziness on a Friday night (But Harvard students-future world leaders?! Can it possibly be?). The shouts grew louder to the point we were not able to ignore them. "Let's check out what's going on," Dave suggested as he started to turn that direction. I was impartial and thereby followed, Em remained hesitant.

People just casually milling around Harvard Square had the same idea, and were walking inside the campus in droves. We got closer and placed guesses on what was going on: Dancing? Drinking? Dorm Pranks?...

Streaking?

I got close enough to see signs by some of the streakers, one of which was "I am Naked." Splendid observation, boy. On the topic of observation: You seemed delighted at the crowd of your fully-clothed brethren. Your mental state at that given time, and perhaps back from when this action was decided upon is of utmost interest. Thoughts?

They scheduled a perfect night for it. Not all too cold so as to (er...) alter physical shapes and attributes. However, because it was indeed a warm night, spectators lingered longer and the crowd dispersed later that usual. Typical of university culture, to be doing things such as this and tag it as tradition. I have witnessed streaking back in my old schoolyard, but I recall it was a cold night in March (?)... cold enough that a group of girls had no problem keeping the whipped cream outfits intact. The novelty of the sight was proportional to the current temperature, so I walked away after a few minutes of laughter and slight adulation for those brazen enough for this task.

At some point, it might be a good to research on sociology/psychology studies on the act of streaking and how it plays within a university setting (or outside of that circle), the cognitive process, inner dilemma, along with the possible after-effects [At a bar: "Seth, yes-hi... nice to meet you. You do look awfully familiar.... Oh, the Northeast quad 2 weeks ago (memory hits home)... Right, well look at the time!... Gotta get going, I have this... thing."].

In any case, seeing that made made for an interesting night in Cambridge. At some point in between the books, exams and the papers, a sanity break in whatever form of activity will be well-received by the students. One wonders if John Harvard approves, as his pensive state did not even seem to have stirred.


* Images credits:
www.upfrontezine.com
www.danielchesterfrench.org

Final set

In the background: Catch My Disease (Awake is the New Sleep), by Ben Lee

... of random musings for 2005. While this will be dated 2006 by the time I get my thoughts (dis)organized, I thought - why not. That year-end review is taking longer than I would have wanted to - and even though I thought I dropped procrastination like a bad habit some time ago (ha!), it is quite a project assessing the previous year.

* * *

New Year's Eve shindig was a mixed bag of the good, the bad and the interesting.

Good: First time in a few years that there was an actual plan to be somewhere, instead of hopping from one place to another and having the bouncer not budge on comping a $20 cover (or was it $5 last year?) even if it's 20 minutes until closing. Also Good: Because I amazingly got over my bah humbug attitude (comment care-of Marc) halfway through the night and partied with 3-inch heels without screaming bloody high shoes at the end. Overall Good: Because it was spent with great friends.

Bad: The champagne was sub-par ($50 clams for tickets and the champagne was not at all "bubbly"), my tonic water lined my throat a lot more that that did. Also bad: An obnoxious friend-of-a-friend who was a bonafide buzz killer. You gotta have one of those on a given night, right? The "bad" clincher: They had to put a restraining order on me when I was insistent on bringing my car - I budged and we all put our fate in the hands of ever-present cab drivers. Ever present, that is - until you really need them. (El)Tony was the brave one to search for a cab as all others huddled in one corner for heat and some sort of cover from the snow. It was a battlefield out there, and I have not had a chance to ask him how many people did he have to maim.

Interesting: Who would steal a wallet on such an occasion? Obviously someone sober enough to be aware, and sick enough to do such a thing. Also interesting: Because I (errhmm...) I mean - we... made new friends.

Here's a snapshot of this said shindig... any idea what's going on here? Neither do I.

* * *

What better way to start the New Year than to make a stupid mistake?

I locked myself out of the apartment.

I was heading out to meet some people for a few drinks that afternoon of January 1st (yes, because apparently the night before was not enough). The door to our apartment requires either a tricky key-turning trick to lock it, or at least three loud door slams. Slammed it once, moment of clarity made me realize my car keys are still inside. Tried to open the door...

The blasted thing locked the first round.

Went downstairs and after some hesitation, rang the doorbell to my first floor neighbors. Allison answered the door and gave her my quick story, eye contact maintained but almost head down in shame. "... so, I'm hoping I kept my back door open earlier and was wondering if I could get through."

What would have been me "just passing through" turned out to be over an hour of talking about a range of things: from other peculiar co-Poplar residents, our building's oddities, Boston University vs. other institutions... and the beauty of cultural differences along with how the ignorance of others makes it even more so.

Allison and Christina were the newest tenants in our 3-family house building. Smart, funny, insightful women... who, like most people these days, have schedules that require more than the 24-hour day cycle. That Sunday afternoon spent chatting turned out to be a great time - not only getting to know them, but learning from their experiences and how it relates to mine. One of the things that we have talked about were misconceptions, as brought about by surface appearances. Stories were traded, comments were made, opinions were shared. Reminded me of this situation that my sister had experienced with her roommates in her first semester in NYU. (transcript extracted from her blog.)

Episode One: I had only 2 hours of sleep the previous night, so obviously I was extremely sleepy that day. I had to read a book of Plato's, but around 10pm, I gave up and just slept. I decided to just wake up around 3am and start studying then. The book, I left beside my pillow.

Around 12:30am, I somehow woke up. I heard them talk.

Roomie 1: (goes to bed, looks at the book) What the hell does she know, reading Plato? (Um, yes, dear roommate. I'm reading it for fun, not for class. Duh!)

Roomie 2: She doesn't f******* know anything. She's from the Philippines.

Roomies: HA, HA, HA, HA. (Yes, roomies we don't hear about books or Plato in the savage mountains of the Phillipines.)

Bottomline: Yes, I somehow got into the apartment through the back door, several sore knuckles- from-knocking after. More so, while there were times that I find it humorous how some mock or misconstrue those outside of their comfortable circles (albeit sometimes not intentionally, which is more unfortunate for such individuals.), it is a constant battle that, on some circumstances, is not all too funny: How do you convince someone (without wanting to drop an anvil on their head first) that not all Filipinos are nannies, etc. and we actually have some pride to show for?

[Side note - Allison initially thought, from the first time we saw each other at the laundry room, that I was from California. Odd. Not that it was any indication of anything.... I didn't tell them of the San Francisco move that afternoon, though. Maybe on another Sunday, when I go to visit them... hopefully not because I got locked out again that time around.]

* * *

New Year's Eve/Day 2006, 3am.... while waiting for a cab by State Street: