Author: approximately

Quick recap on today—

My aunt called me early this morning to see if I’d be interested in joining her and the twins, Edward and Estelle, at the Farmer’s Market. Going to the market is a usual Saturday occurrence for the Emery’s and the best way to scope out fresh, local produce, etc. Naturally I was completely excited to join.

We drove down to the market, set up along The Embarcadero at the waterfront. Amy and the kids were equipped with plenty of totes to carry their goods in, and we created a plan of attack. There was so much fresh produce! Beautiful varieties of organic peaches, nectarines, pluots (plum/apricot hybrid), delicious cherries, strawberries and gobs of green vegetables. I marveled as my aunt and cousins had their selection process to an art: scoping the prices, sampling, purchasing the best of the best. We sampled the morning away, skipping from fruits to sea beans to all sorts of dips: chutneys, lemon quarks, hummus with capers, zesty garlic spreads, walnut and olive tapenades. The most delicious flavors I’d never think to try, and instantly developed a taste for. I sipped on a lemonde as we strolled in the heat (it was HOT here today, quite unusual for San Francisco, I’m told), people-watching, poking through the pier’s various shops, and filling the totes with fresh goods. It was a neat, neat experience.

After the market we made our way to “The Haight,” or the area of town more famously known for the 1960’s hippie revolution and Haight-Ashbury. I was excited to see where it all went down, and feel a new San Francisco vibe (all the districts I’ve visited so far have their distinct atmospheres). Haight was not short on excitement, from top-knotch thrift and vintage stores, homeless hippies with guitars singing for change (“Ain’t got no dolla’s for Doritos”), tie dye and good grub. We stopped for lunch at Cha Cha Cha, a funky Haight staple serving Caribbean cuisine. Amy was quick to introduce me to new food, including fried plantain (similar to bananas) smothered in black beans, warm spinach salad, and “real” sangeria (none of that Applebee’s wannabe sangeria). It was all so new, and so delicious. I feel like I’ve been missing out on worlds of food. I could have really dug in to the Haight, but the afternoon was tiring and being under a time restriction, I decided to return soon to further investigate.

When we got back, I polished up my resumé and sent it off to a photo studio that I’m —fingers crossed— hoping to land an internship or such. I’ve applied for a job and have been looking for other work, but it’s slow—then again, I’ve been here not a week. Money goes fast here and I’m hoping for some sort of income, or at least a way to kill time that’s not also killing money. If things don’t work out soon, my sights are set on volunteering somewhere in the area, to fill time and add accomplishment to the summer.

Dinner was a delicious collection of market purchases, and I once again got to re-sample the foods I’d helped select this morning. Amy and Michael are fantastic cooks and have been serving fantastic fresh meals, for which I’m very grateful.

The meal was followed by perhaps the most interesting event of the day: Edward and Estelle’s rats’ funeral. The rats, Herb and Mo, died roughly six months ago and have since been frozen in Emery’s kitchen freezer. Tonight Estelle placed the rats in their monogrammed burlap sacks, while Edward dug a hole in the backyard garden.

Then proceeding to the grave site, the entire family took part in the ceremony where the appropriate interment music was played, a series of candles were lit, an impromptu eulogy was recited, burial ensued, flowers placed over the grave, and that was that. Closure. (Three photographers documented the funeral, arguably the biggest event in the Bay area for those fifteen solid minutes.) We all moved back inside as though it’d never happened.

Then recalling that it’s Saturday night—our first Saturday night together in San Francisco—Adam and I went out for a beer and good people watching in North Beach. I’m in early with hopes of waking up early, digging into the city once again, getting my morning coffee, going for a walk, finding a park or a shop or a street that fascinates me.

Today was a treat. This place is a treat.

THE PEOPLE RAN DEEP, hot June day on a bus to Mission, streaming along Van Ness with jolts and jots and drops, ‘stop requested’s’ along the jalopy way. Stings of scents from strangers—pleasant some, others of filth and sweat and unwashed jeans, urine—lofted through. Through the window, a teenager took a hit from a pipe on a church’s steps, homeless man’s belongings hung on a fence, treasures scattered on the sidewalk, change-begging. Produce fresh everywhere, fresh faces, neighborhoods blended by delis and dives, dogs and drifters.

And making no eye contact, following no path to any feet or forearms that could lead to a stare, I watched the window, and the buildings blitz by two blocks at a time as riders shifted on and off.

I couldn’t remember what I was doing here.

Cait is Adam’s friend from High School in Sioux Falls. Tonight we went to her place—a cozy den in the Mission district—for a delicious meal and company. Once again we are spoiled with awesomeness!

The blue yonder dreams and second hand shoes
Are so far gone that you live to lose
And it’s too late to go home all alone
You’re the tar in that old cigar
And the worn out cable on a cable car
And you’re too tired to admit you’ve got to choose

Today:

Sleeping in, a long walk to Crissy Field with the Golden Gate in the distance, a hunt for city shoes (unsuccessful), lunch by the bay, Trader Joe’s extravaganza, a long walk back, relax, hop on BART to Berkeley where there was dinner with good company, and now home to find success tomorrow…

Goodnight, friends!

WE ARRIVED IN SAN FRANCISCO LAST NIGHT, after one of the most significant drives to date—or during my lifetime, for that matter. The scenery from Portland, trailing through Oregon and blurring to Northern California, the Redwood Forest, and coastline was invaluable. We took Route 101 and saw age-old trees, astounding in size and humble beauty. Moving forth left no question of our own size, as we were towered by cliffs and river valleys while rolling along a road marked into the sides of mountains proclaiming their magnitude. Then driving through the sweeps of forest-spangled inclines spanning south to Sonoma, wine country, as sunshine sweated over clean parallels of leaves, branches, grapes. Just beautiful.

When the miles started to tick down—Eureka, Petaluma, San Rafael, Sausalito—we readied ourselves for the entrance. And as we drove around the final corner, and I saw the Golden Gate ahead, well—it was the best kind of bliss. That moment was perfect. We drove across, windows down, music loud, feeling free and new and alive! So alive. I couldn’t believe where I was or how I’d arrived, but nothing could have been better. A quick doodle down Lombard and we arrived at Union Street—”home.”

Today I took on the city, or attempted to. The best thing right now is there’s no itenerary. I left the building this morning with not a single plan or direction, and ended the day quite the same. Spontanaeity is a beautiful thing. I was lost, tired, scared at times. I feel powerless and insiginificant here, but I know better. I try to walk with conviction, even though I have no idea what corner I need to turn next. This is the happiest uncomfortable experience of my life.

There is so much opportunity in this entire endeavor, the problem is I don’t know how or where to begin. I need work, and experience. I’m so happy, but I’m so, so scared. I’m nervous. I want to turn around, but I’m going to keep marching. This place is made for realizations. That’s why I came.

Tomorrow will be much the same, with a little less fear. Beginnings are scary, but I crossed the Golden Gate into this city in the most perfect way. The ripples from that moment will spread, eventually.

This—this San Francisco, the first day of a new, new lifestyle for a short while—this has been unforgettable, will be forever.