i left my heart in san francisco
“Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, ahhh. Whatever happened to predictability? The milkman, the paperboy, evening TV?”
These lyrics are all too familiar to any child that grew up in the nineties. We all remember John Stamos and the Olsen twins. The rest? Well, they aren’t that important! I kid, I kid! Whenever I would hear anyone mention San Francisco I would revert back to this! Before I made the move to the West coast, everyone kept telling me how San Francisco was the best place to visit out West. I didn’t quite understand it, as I thought that Los Angeles would be at that time. I had never been that far west, so I just had to take their word for it. This is why I decided to make Broderick Street my first stop. The original Full House house is still here, only remodeled due to the owners not wanting anyone to loiter or trespass. I love the architecture in this city. How the pastel colorful homes are constructed and sit elegantly on top of hills. The hills! They’re killer!!! Booty blaster times 30. This is definitely a walking city, so put on the Stride Rites because you’ll be doing a lot of it. I decided to check out one of the curviest streets in the US, and the most crooked street in San Francisco! Ohhhhh she's got curves, and she knows how to use em’! You can walk or drive down Lombard Street on Russian Hill. The choice is yours!
The view of the bay at the start of the street is jaw-dropping; I’m standing taking in the panoramic grandeur of the lush green bushes and aromatic native flowers that adorn the scintillating homes. Coit Tower is to my right, so iconic and resilient. The immense pale orange Golden Gate Bridge far into the distance. The ruby red brick meanders beautifully into a steep and perfectly straight line down the hill that takes you back to the bustling streets of San Francisco. All this running around has got a girl feeling so thirsty! What’s a girl got to do to get a drink around these parts? Easy! Walk to Vesuvio! And that is precisely what I do. I enjoy my leisurely walk there, and can’t wait to see what it’s all about! I arrive and the doorman welcomes me in. “Welcome to Vesuvio,” he mutters. I set foot in the bar like a gazelle at a watering hole, and instantly feel their retro vibe. A collection of paintings, pictures, articles, and quotes fill every inch of the walls. The stained glass lights and vintage looking chandeliers set a pristine scene. Cigarette smoke dances in the air and glasses are filled with beverages of their picking. The chatter and laughs crowd around me. It’s packed like sardines in a crushed tin box, and I see the stairs that lead up to the second level of the bar. I shinny up the steps and spot a small table for two that a couple has just vacated that has my name all over it. I have a seat and wait patiently for the waitress. I look below me, and there is a girl at the bar reading. What? How can you possibly… “Hi, I’m Julie. Have you been here before?” the waitress said cheerfully. She explains the drink menu to me and tells me the bar's story. I discover that this is no ordinary bar. This fine drinking establishment is where Bob Dylan among others would hang and find his muse. Pretty cool huh? I order absinthe. I’ve never had it before, and being the open-minded gal that I am I decided to give a chance. Now, you're probably thinking that I’m about to rave about how great it is. Wrong! I hated it. It was gross and made me feel a bit off. Now, I’m not sure if it was the absinthe or what, but I catch a glimpse of a sign that read and I quote, “ Beware Pickpockets and Loose Women.” I burst into laughter. The bar is full of these silly and witty phrases. I have a couple glasses of water and try another drink. This time, I opt for a milder spirit. I have the Pink Paloma due to the fact that this Latina is fond of mezcal! It’s delicious as the grapefruit, soda, and mezcal blended together is the perfect combination. I finish my drink, and am now ready to descend into the arms of Morpheus properly! With that being said, I head back to my hotel and call it a night.
I wake up the next morning bright eyed and bushy tailed ready to get the ball rolling! I’m staying in North Beach, and man do I love this part of town. I don’t know what it is about this local, but it feels like home. The scent of freshly brewed Italian roast coffee and pastries linger in the air, the light white fog drifting through the alleys of the pubs. This is what I see on my early morning walk, and I am like a delicate and tranquil chickadee following those breadcrumbs. I do believe that this particular area does, however, epitomize the whole free of any pressures spirit that this city is all about. I come across a Caffé Puccini, an authentic Italian café. Delores shows me to my table and takes my drink order. I order a cappuccino and your basic omelet with a waffle. Delores has a smile that could cure cancer and is from the old country. I watch her at work; I see so much energy and life in her. She yells something in Italian that follows a smile and slight chuckle. Her red hairs pulled back in an updo, and her fringe right above her eyebrows bounces as she lets out a loud laugh. I devour my meal and am content. I bid farewell, and move on to Chinatown.
Only a short walk away, I’m overwhelmed as San Francisco’s Chinatown is the oldest Chinatown in North America and the largest Chinese community outside Asia. Straightway, I’m enamored with all of the culture and beauty of this part of town. Chaos! There are street vendors everywhere shouting, and a lot of it. Shops line the streets that sell virtually everything with a multitude of people on them. Yet, it all makes sense and the people that reside here have a system down that obviously works for them. There is beauty in the breakdown of it.
Colorful Chinese lanterns are strung along the rambunctious neighborhood bringing nostalgia for traditional values.The fact that they have been able to preserve their culture in this city for such a long time amazes me. What a beautiful thing. I begin taking pictures of it all, and find splendor in a specific shot of an elderly Asian man looking out of his window. I take my shot and continue walking. I arrive at a bakery a few blocks down, and feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to an older Asian man saying something to me in his native tongue. I can’t understand him, so naturally I let him know I have no clue what he’s saying to me. And then he spits out in a heavy accent “Why you take my picture?” and keeps repeating this to me. I’m shocked being as I didn’t know who he was at first. “You take my picture. Why you take my picture?” also mumbling something in his language while laughing, and covering and wiping the corners of his mouth off and on. I get out of the trance that I’m in and respond. “ Yes, I took a picture of you and your building because I liked it, ” I replied. “You take my picture” he says laughing again, and commences to slowly walk away still laughing and stumbling along. He is clearly inebriated or high on that great opium I hear about in Asia. I have a “what the hell just happened moment?” but try to continue on my trek. I can still hear his voice from a far. “She take my picture.”
A block ahead, I see a group of people dancing in the street singing the “Hokey Pokey.” I’m always down for a good time, so I briskly make my way there, and proceed to inquire on this matter that I so eagerly want to be a part of. A girl screams out “We’re on a scavenger hunt! Whoooooaaaa!!!” Apparently, every time they find an objective they are required to dance and sing! How fun! Sadly, I cannot join and set about my journey.
And then the misty rain starts falling over the city. I don’t allow this to ruin my good time. In fact, I’m keen on it. The humid, misty, salty drops are lovely on my face and hair.
The sky is grey, the sun is no longer shining, and I find beauty in all of it. Is something wrong with me? NO! I reside in arid and moistureless Los Angeles where rain is scarce, and so is water in general. So, let me have my moment. I’m within walking distance of Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill. I pick up an umbrella at a drug store and keep it moving. I arrive at the base of the stairs that take me to Telegraph Hill. At first, these stairs look intimidating, but they’re not. Well, never mind, you’ll be crawling up the last 10 steps. I recently watched “The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill” on Netflix, and am excited to see these little guys. Apparently, they are a flock of Cherry Headed and Mitred Conures that hail from South America that were at one time pets, but were released due to their wild nature, and have flourished in the city. After I managed to catch my breath I look around, and not one in site. A neighbor tells me she hasn’t seen them in a long time. I’m an optimist, so I like to think that my feathered friends have safely made their way back to the motherland.
I keep walking towards Coit Tower, and as I approach I read a little history. The story behind this historic place is interesting. Elizabeth Lillie Hitchcock Coit left one-third of her riches to San Francisco to use towards a monument. The monument was built on Telegraph Hill, and resembles the nozzle of a fire hose due to her extreme love for firefighters. I wanted to experience this, and after waiting in line for an hour I walk into the elevator that takes us all to the top. Take note and get here early. Then again, it could be worse. It’s finally my group’s turn and our lovely elevator operator takes us up. His name is Kyle, and we all appreciate his dry humor. He tells us how he hates San Francisco, and how his job is boring. I like his dark side, and giggle at his dismay. We arrive, and Kyle’s chat is over. The spiral staircase takes you to the top, and currently it’s not pouring down. The 360-degree aerial view ladies and gentleman is out of this world. Even with the rain and strong wind stinging my face as I peer out of one of the open windows, I cannot get enough of this. This tower is one of the most momentous city landmarks. Thank you Lillie Coit! I’d like to stay longer, but I do the kind thing and come down to give my other friends a chance to see it as well. I wait in line for the elevator, and low and behold it’s my morbid friend Kyle. “Hello again, how was it?” He asked. “It was incredible! I loved the view.” I replied. An idiot to my left asks, “Has anyone ever attempted to jump off of it? I roll my eyes, and thankfully the elevator stops and I step off quickly. I catch a cab, and take it to the nearest place to take a cable car to Fisherman’s Wharf.
Ding, ding, ding. Hummmm. As I hop on I feel like Malin Åkerman in Heartbreak Kid. The scene when she hops on the cable car and waves goodbye to Ben Stiller as he is hopeful that he will see her again. You hear the humming throughout the entire city, even when you’re not on one of these babies. The San Francisco Cable Car System is unfortunately the world’s last manually operated cable car system, so riding one of these babies is necessary. The wires actually pull these cars throughout the city, which is why you hear the constant hum. I like it! So unique. You cannot leave this city without doing it! Make sure you have cash and exact change if you wish to ride these.
I make my way to pier 39, and I can already hear faint barking afar. Rotten sardine stench hits my nose as I approach the pier. You won’t stay there long, that’s for sure.
“Arf, Arf, Arf, and then I big Aaachoo!”
“God bless you.” Says a tiny girl.
This blessing is given to a sneezing sea lion from a small girl. She gazes at the sea creature with astonishment, her sparkling dark brown eyes too big for her tiny face. Her father kneels down beside her with his loving arms around her, smiling, and just as enthusiastic as she says, “Did you hear him? He said thank you.” She gasps, and he kisses her. Much like this father-daughter duo, many people gather at San Francisco’s Pier 39’s K-dock to see the sea lions that took over the area in the nineties shortly after the Loma Prieta earthquake that hit in 1989. Interestingly enough, they are mostly male.
“Bye, Bye friends. I see you next time!” The tiny girl says her goodbyes, and her father lifts her on his shoulders and they leave.
I hop in my car as my hotel is in this area to drive toward my next destination. Last, but certainly not least, The Golden Gate Bridge. Whether I’m crossing or photographing it The Golden Gate Bridge never seems to stop amazing me. One of the world’s most beautiful bridges, its 80,000 miles of wire in the two main cables is enough to circle the earth more than three times!!! I won’t bore you with a ton of facts because that’s what Google is for! To you, it may just be a bridge, but to me it’s an inspiration. So many people believed that it couldn’t be done, many were opposed to its construction, and there was even an earthquake before its construction was complete. This 1.7 miles long and ninety feet wide beast motivates us to do the impossible, that there are no limits, and to finish what you start no matter the circumstances. I truly believe that we all leave a piece of our hearts in San Francisco. XO Until next time!
Places I Visited
Lombard St, San Francisco, CA 94133
Vesuvio Cafe 255 Columbus Ave, San Francisco, CA 94133, United States
Coit Tower, 1 Telegraph Hill Blvd, San Francisco, CA 94133
Chinatown, San Francisco, California
Fisherman's Wharf, San Francisco, CA, USA
Pier 39 Beach Street & The Embarcadero, San Francisco, CA 94133, United States
Golden Gate Bridge, California
