9.20.2012

I LEFT MY HEART IN SAN FRANCISCO






My first time not only in Cali but the West Coast in general and my week spent there was enough to seal the deal. Yes, the weather is bipolar, the public transportation is borderline non-existent, and the homeless people approach you like they're on steroids; but its unique and lively culture paired with selfless hospitality has stolen my nomadic heart. It's a shame because I've only known the city for a week.



The fisherman's warf was turf owned by the biggest seagulls I have ever seen. I grew up on a beach - I know what seagulls are supposed to look like. Apparently the bay is home to more fish (or trash) than any beach. Imagine the freshest seafood - bread bowls of clam chowder, prawn cocktail cups to-go, Texas-sized mixed cocktails worth stopping and staring at, smelly sea lions tanning on piers, and lobster rolls that would put any NYC food truck to shame.



I wore shorts during the day and regretted it by 2 p.m. The fog moves in and blankets the city and nearby mountains like a strip of white-out on your middle school english paper. Drive 10 minutes south, north or east, and the weather warms up by 10 degrees. No one there understands why, but you learn to adjust.

I did not listen to my friends when they told me to pack a coat. I guess I should listen to them more often.



Coffee shops and factories are independent - every cup of coffee was crafted, flowers and hearts imprinted in lattes. No one goes to Starbuck's because it's Starbuck's.



San Francisco is like eternal fall, without the auburn color palette - no falling leaves - the flowers are still high-contrast and the grass is still moist with a spring dew. I can only imagine the layering possibilities - the closet full of light jackets that grow dusty wouldn't be so mad at me anymore.




I found my thrift world. Haight street. An entire street dedicated to the sharing of apparel, accessories and articles of another person's soul - one man's trash is another man's treasure.



We were wedding crashers for a day, peeking at an aisle laden with white rose petals. An alter filled with feelings of the naive hope that always makes me cry at weddings.



Conversations about the minds behind the Golden Gate - how an idea fueled by design and solidified by physics becomes an architectural masterpiece. Functional and beautiful, a necessary luxury.




I found myself and left my heart in San Francisco.

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