One journalist's musings about the beautiful, bizarre world in which we live
DAYS 8-10, NOV. 14-16 – 13-11 DAYS UNTIL THE WEDDING
Jack Kerouac called it Frisco. Herb Caen wants it SanfrnSISco. SF is common to those on the inside; San Fran to tourists. Any way you look at it, the city called after the patron saint of the environment seems to live up to its name and more.
It seemed that everywhere I turned there was another attempt at keeping the oceans blue and lands green. Recycling, composting, water protection – I can’t tell you much about their policies, but from the outside it looked good.
But I’m not only talking about the earthly environment. SF’s Chinatown is a world unto its own, with a loud and fast-paced environment that kept my eyes moving the entire time I was there.
And The Castro! Oh, don’t even get me started on that. Never before have I seen such a party in a bar on a Monday night.
* * *
My travel partner is a huge fan of The Big Lebowski. As such, he insisted that we go to an In-N-Out Burger joint. He walked into the lively yellow, red and white restaurant and ordered his cheeseburger from Carl.
Dear Carl soon got a bit of tut-tutting from the cashier next to him, Francy.
“Are you smiling?” asked Francy, a cheery blue-eyed blonde.
“Yes, I’m smiling,” said Carl with a stern face.
“Doesn’t sound like you’re smiling,” she replied, her eyes narrowing in his direction.
* * *
I was typing away on this little keyboard on my netbook in the hostel one night, working on my blog while waiting for my dinner. Eavesdropping, as per usual.
“That smells good – is that the fish?” one girl asked her friend at a nearby table.
“No, that guy’s cooking greens in ginger and garlic,” he replied, pointing at my travel partner.
“It smells really good!”
Tasted good, too. Lucky me. Sometimes, it’s really great travelling with a chef.