Trying hard to love San Francisco

We planned how to get into San Francisco from Oakland in great detail. After a white-knuckle high-speed drive on the freeway (they are rotten drivers here and nobody sticks to the speed limits), twenty minutes of looking for parking by the train station, figuring out how to buy the tickets (relieving my wallet of $25), and standing up in a cramped train, we finally arrive in San Francisco. We are greeted by an overcast sky, icy winds, large crowds of tourists, and a run-down and dirty city. We head down towards the waterfront and in a glimpse we realize that we may be on to something here after all – the water shines fluorescently green and blue under low-hanging clouds and out there lies Alcatraz, the high-security prison island (the mere name Alcatraz being full of mystery and adventure) ominously circled by pelicans. Turning our heads, we marvel at the huge suspension bridge crossing the bay and admire the towering skyscrapers of the financial district reaching into the clouds.

The luminous sea with Alcatraz

Many people, whose opinion I value highly, have been telling me for years, decades actually, that San Francisco is one of the coolest places to visit in the US, maybe the coolest. And so I have traveled to this great city on several occasions and I have tried to love the place, I really have. But the weather has always been against me, this bloody icy wind down by Fisherman’s Wharf, and all these tourists, and the overpriced restaurants. Sure, the honking sea lions are fun to watch, and the clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl is tasty enough, the steep streets and the cable cars are charming. But the city still hasn’t made it to my shortlist of favorites.

So, I try it again.

We go down to Fisherman’s Wharf, looking for food. (We are hungry after the effort of getting here). But all the restaurants are cramped with tourists waiting to get a table. Some people are brave enough (or hungry enough) to sit down by one of the tables outside, facing the sea, in the chilling wind, which are still free. We are not. And we don’t want to wait for a table, so we continue. In the end, we get our clam chowder in a sourdough bread bowl from a food stall and sit down on a bench. The sun almost manages to seep through the clouds and the chowder is good.

Mass tourism by pier 39

By pier 39 we stand in the crowd, stretching our necks to watch the many sea lions. They are really performing at their best today: Several good wrestling matches result in the loosing sea lion being pushed into the sea. They are honking and flapping and rolling over, and we all have a good laugh.

Great entertainers - the sea lions

We want to get a ride on one of the cool, old-fashioned cable cars, but the line of people waiting to get on is simply too long and we satisfy ourselves by looking at them passing us in the street.

Reaching Chinatown by foot, we look at all the exotic foods on display and enter stores with wacky gimmicky goods. P gets a communist Mao cap for a friend (which we quickly hide in a bag) and M gets a cool fidget spinner. A filthy hobo with long greasy hair and an unlit cigarette in the corner of his mouth is peeling something he has found in a garbage bin, which looks utterly disgusting. Munching on the stuff, he passes my sons, who are horsing around, wrestling and tugging at each other as usual. Next thing I know, he is shouting angrily at P: “Don’t hurt the kid!” I am taken aback by this sudden outburst, but even more surprised hearing my oldest son retorting with a booming voice: “Chill, man!” and seeing the hobo hurrying away. So, I don’t even have to interfere. Cool. Apparently, it was all just a misunderstanding, a misunderstood and misplaced sympathy for the little brother.

The next day is a Sunday, and we decide to drive all the way into San Francisco. In spite of heavy traffic, it proves to be an easier way of getting into the city than the train. After a great deal of searching, we find parking by the Golden Gate Bridge and we take the same pictures of the bridge as all the other tourists. Then we walk out on the bridge. In spite of heavy traffic on the bridge (cars, bicycles and walking tourists) and strong, cold winds, we really enjoy it. The sea shines in luminous colors under the usual low-hanging blanket of clouds and the air is crisp and fresh. The proportions of the iconic bridge are enormous when inspected up close. The top of the pillars are shrouded in clouds. We see pelicans riding on the brisk wind over the sea, and P identifies the little specks in the water far below as seals.

The Golden Gate Bridge under the usual blanket of clouds

Walking across the bridge (we made it halfway and returned)

The sea shimmers fluorescent colors beneath us

We drive on through the city. Aiming for Lombard Street, I want steepness and get more than I bargained for as I am forced to stop at an unreasonably steep uphill grade and the car rolls back as I move my foot to the gas pedal, and stepping on the gas only makes the tires spin and the crowds turn their heads in the direction of the burning rubber…

The steep Lombard Street - here it goes down, the easy part

We have lunch at a mouth-burning authentic Indian place, which we all enjoy. For once, we don’t have to remind M to drink enough with the meal.

P wants to have a look at a trendy fashion store called “Pink Dolphin” in Haight Ashbury. The name rings a bell, and when we get there, I remember that it is an old hippie neighborhood. The old Victorian wooden houses are pretty, and the shops are fun to look at. We find the Pink Dolphin store and P gets a wildly overpriced T-shirt. The black dude in the store asks if this particular T-shirt sits all right. “Cause they’re made from one sheet and they are all a little different,” he says with a straight face.

I pick up a double-shot cappuccino that could raise a dead in a nearby cafe, and we stroll around in the neighborhood, again we see many hobos AND an incredible number of tourists (my God, these people are everywhere!). There are tarot-reading places, smoke shops etc., mixed with hipster fashion stores.

Store fronts in Haight Ashbury

On the third day in the San Francisco area, we go to the Berkeley campus. Loads of Asians there. Many of them young, smartly dressed, good-looking. Just like MIT, Berkeley seems to attract the best and most ambitious people from around the world. The campus is in a very green, park-like area and they have some of the world’s tallest eucalyptus trees. 

The oldest building on the Berkeley campus

We leave the campus and pass by many interesting restaurants that are very busy because it is around lunch time. We notice a lot of Japanese influence (including a fusion restaurant offering their signature burrito sushi!). We are not particularly hungry yet and drive on to the nearby “Indian Rock Park” where you are supposed to be able to do bouldering. In a very nice residential area, a jumble of large boulders rise up in front of us. Indeed, it provides a very nice playground for kids and grownups.

The boulders in "Indian Rock Park" in Berkeley

We go back to Berkeley to have lunch in one of the many hip restaurants, which presumably cater to the many students from the university. The big Japanese influence makes me think of "San Fran Tokyo" in the movie "Big Hero 6" - the future is Asian and it is already here. We get some Japanese food at "Seasons of Japan" - the concept here is simple: food at affordable prices and nothing else. You order the food at a counter and get your water etc yourself. I like the it, and the food is delicious.

In the end, I still don’t know exactly what to make of San Francisco. We had a good time. But there are so many tourists here and the weather… I guess I have to come back to make up my mind.