San Francisco Part III: Wednesday, February 24, 2010

San Francisco Part III: Wednesday, February 24, 2010

April 2, 2010, 3:47 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

San Francisco Part III: Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Mission Delores was only four blocks from 16^th and Mission, yet it was a world away.  As I walked up the road, (up and down being the operative directions in San Francisco), the scenery changed from vagrants and check-cashing joints to small, well-manicured lawns and well-kept homes.  Mission Delores itself was dwarfed by its larger sister—the cathedral next door—but charming. It’s a white adobe structure that must have served as a fortress/church back in the 1800s.  The grounds around it included a small cemetery containing some of the city’s oldest grave markers.  But the real gem was the street itself.

Delores Street runs north-south from Market Street.  It boasts a tree-lined boulevard and some small, single-family dwellings.  Three blocks south of the mission was Delores Park.  (See photo)  The day before, I had been stuck in a city with three feet of dirty gray snow.  Here before me, nestled in the foothills, was a broad swath of green extending upwards.  I was stunned.  I lolled about the park for a while before strolling through the park and up into the hills overlooking the Castro District.

Man, those hills were steep!  The map I had showed a normal grid pattern, but there was nothing normal about the swift, sharp pitch of the street.  I paused several times before reaching the summit.  I had planned on heading further south into the Noe Valley District, but I when saw the severe undulation below me, I decided I was not going to brave that climb again.  Instead of heading south, I followed the ridgeline west and then headed north on Castro. 

Far below me to the north, I could make out a street scene; the chief feature visible was a theatre marquee and a huge rainbow flag rippling in the wind.  As I descended the hill into the heart of the Castro District, I took in the revels of Gay San Francisco.  Perhaps the most striking landmark was that huge rainbow flag—it seemed to shout out “Gay Pride” for all the world to see.  It was a vibrant scene, full of students, street musicians, hippies, and lovers.  On the corner, folks were passing out handbills extolling the value of safe sex, socialism, and sadomasochism.  Interesting as all these were, I was getting hungry.  I decided to hop a bus and head for the ocean.

I jumped off the bus at an entrance to Golden Gate Park about a mile from the coast.  I sauntered through the park heading west.  Our olfactory system conjures up some of our most persistent memories.  One of my first recollections of coming to Golden Gate Park back in 1971 was the smell of the Eucalyptus trees.  Now, as I passed one, I bent down and stuffed a few Eucalyptus acorns into my backpack.  Fresh memories.

Then, another sense activated.  As I got closer to the ocean I began to hear waves crashing against the shore.  I love Minneapolis, but it has no mountains and no ocean.  So every time I get a chance, I have to see the silvery-gray ocean waves and hear their dull roar and smell the sharp salty air and squish sand between my toes.  Golden Gate Park ends at the West Coast, and there, as far as the eye can see, the ocean washes over a wide beach front, with sea gulls and strollers moving along it.  To the north, just up the hill, was the day’s final destination.

 

The Cliff House Restaurant doesn’t serve the greatest food, but it serves up one of the greatest views in the world.  Perched precariously on a cliff overlooking the ocean, Cliff House has been a SF institution since the late 1800s.  The present structure is the third building on the site.  Mark Twain frequented the first one; I frequent the third.  As usual the food was OK (warm, fresh bread), but the real treat was watching the setting sun sink slowly into the sea.  Awesome.

My first day in SF was over.

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