It’s been a week since we got to San Francisco. I appreciate that we moved on Monday and it’s now Tuesday, but even though we pretty much got to do last Monday twice I’m not counting it because my brain had practically given up playing the game by the time we got here.
In short – I like it. It’s a beautiful city. It’s clean, friendly, sunny and has a gentle buzz about it, as if there’s a whole load going on just beneath the surface. It’s also a dog city. Seriously, almost everyone here has a dog. They’re everywhere – trotting behind their humans in the streets, playing catch in the park, waiting patiently outside cafes and restaurants. Despite this I have yet to see poop on the pavement. It’s the little things.
Speaking of the little things, these are the things that are taking the most getting used to. Looking the wrong way before crossing the street. The light switches and plugs. The fact they don’t seem to sell squash (juice) and that creme fraiche is $7. I’ve spent about half an hour staring at the shelves in Safeway and Mollie Stones in baffled silence. I’m looking forward to the moment I don’t have to translate the dollars into pounds and the pounds into grams to know whether it’s good value. The same goes for temperature. And the oven.
So far this week I’ve done a lot of exploring. San Francisco is a city of neighbourhoods, each with its own distinct flavour and yet clustered together, so they almost run into each other. And, thanks to the Muni (the bus/tram/underground system) it’s possible to run into each with remarkable ease. We were told before we arrived that areas can change dramatically with just the cross of the street and it’s certainly true, which makes for interesting bus rides.
So far, I’m in love with Pacific Heights. It’s a boutiquey neighbourhood – everything from Marc Jacob, Betsy Johnson and Ralph Lauren to independent book shops, interior designers and neon outlined burger bars. There’s a little cinema that’s currently showing Rocky Horror at midnight, a park that looks down over the Bay and two Starbucks. The buildings are a mishmash of styles, predominantly reminiscent of the Jazz era, with no two exactly the same. The colours add a sense of individual style and bring vibrancy and fun, the gold painted details catching the sun with sparkling warmth.
Noe Valley (pronounced No-ee) is another area I’ve already developed a fondness for. Even after only one visit, it’s hard not to be taken in by the small-town feel of the place and quirky little shops. It’s a haven of the technology set – Google and Facebook have a lot of employees in the area – so it wasn’t surprising (although it was still all I could do not to burst out laughing) when, on entering the small Starbucks we were met with a sea of laptops, all lined up neatly, and the insistent tapping of the keys. For the downside to Noe, the clue is in the name. It’s set along a valley so it seems like wherever you go, you’re heading uphill. To be fair, this is the case with most of San Francisco but for some reason in Noe it seems more pronounced. It makes the bus ride more of an adventure, though, as you roll up and down slopes that at first you think you’ll never make it to the top of and then wish you weren’t facing backwards as the ground disappears beneath you and you desperately hope the breaks are working.
The ride back from Noe Valley passes through Castro, the rainbow district. And, man, do they have their rainbow on down there! By all accounts it’s the party neighbourhood, full of bars and clubs. So far I’ve only seen it from the bus but I’m going to have to go and explore this vibrant neighbourhood. It sounds a little hippy, and possibly a bit patronising to say it, but I was genuinely excited and happy to see this place where rainbows were plastered on everything from the lampposts and benches to the banks and restaurants, people were expressing themselves freely with their clothes and and couples could walk down the street hand in hand without fear of abuse. I was less thrilled to see the naked guy at the bus stop (why is it always the old, slightly overweight guys?) and laughed to see the nail salon called ‘Hand Job’ (until which point I’d been thinking ‘way to keep it classy, Castro’). It’s certainly somewhere I’m going to have to check out in greater detail.
I think it’s safe to say that San Francisco is gradually increasing her grip on me. It’s only been a week and I’m feeling like this is somewhere I could really get used to living. More than ‘used to’ in fact. I think I could love it.