it's nice to be back in san francisco... the people are chill, the values are liberal, and the weather's always predictable - bring a light coat. at a quaint downtown café, where heavy-framed mirrors cover the walls interspersed with vintage liquor posters, patrons grab small tables to sip their coffee with a magazine or newspaper grabbed off one of the racks. overhead, ceiling fans spin gently to the pulse of the casual atmosphere, and a light stream of french tunes emanate from hidden speakers.
as i take a seat near the corner of the café for a spot of brunch, the little girl from the table beside me plays peek-a-boo with the sheer window curtains as i smile and play along. a glance at her table reveals she had already been hard at work before i arrived, doodling cartoons in a spectrum of colors on the disposable paper placemats, which cover the linen tablecloth. her mother and father, who are still finishing their meal, chat amongst themselves and seem to have left their daughter to her own devices. on the hardwood floor between my table and theirs, several stuffed animals lay by the wayside, waiting to be picked up or remembered. as i eat my order of eggs, toast, smoked salmon, and hollandaise, the little girl begins playing with a tiny stuffed-animal duck on my table, and i play along until she retreats back to fiddling with the curtains and her own unfinished plate of food.
near the end of my meal, the little girl and her parents prepare to leave, gathering the stuffed animals from off the floor. as her mother, dressed in a bright neon-pink dress and a large sparkly-green bow in her hair, and her squeeze by to leave, i say bye to the little girl, but her mother [in un-san-fran fashion] makes no attempt to interact with me, and i don’t either, deciding it would be best to give them their peace and privacy instead. it’s hard enough dealing with the press, i imagine. the little girl goes to join her father, while her mother gives a friend of theirs a parting hug and mentions something about going back to iceland soon.
i finish brunch and stroll the streets around chinatown, passing by racks of counterfeit goods, barrels of dried foodstuffs, boxes of vegetables, and carts of shiny gimmicks for tourist. chinese women on street corners hand out sheets of paper printed with menus, in an attempt to coax hungry passer-bys into a meal of good dim-sum, but know enough not to try persuading the asians. foreign tourists filter into and out of storefronts, while locals pick through piles of vegetables or saunter the sidewalks with their hands clasped behind their backs. two young women stop in the middle of the road for a photo in front of a restaurant backdrop, while two others choose a backdrop of the pagoda-topped “trade mark” building instead.
i make a stop in old st. mary’s cathedral, and in the dark foyer glass-covered display cases glow before visitors' eyes, which browse various black-and-white photos from the early 20th century. some images show the city at a time when the structure was the tallest around and the first cathedral in california, while others show it in ruin, consumed by fire from the great 1906 earthquake. as i step out the main doors and over the steps, which were once smashed by falling stonework a hundred years ago, i take a moment to awe at the city’s rebirth and lightning progress into its present state today.
a few blocks away market street is alive with a different type of buzz. still tourist-saturated in certain areas, others are much more noticeably destitute, with street-people, pawnshops, x-rated theatres, and as expected, more locals. rainbow pride-flags, in waiting for tomorrow’s gay pride parade, flutter atop light posts lining the wide thoroughfare, and police barricades sit already stacked on the sidewalks. as i wait baking in the sun for a bus, a glance down market reveals the ferry building before a sea and sky of blue. a look in the opposite direction however, shows a hill dripping with a thick white fog that churns and spills from behind twin peaks like dry ice. good thing i brought that coat.
san francisco, california.
