I am savoring the end of my sixth day here in San Francisco. It would impossible not to savor the view from my old hotel room on the 8th floor of an Edwardian building, the sunshine streaming in, the glass of white wine in my hand from the grocery-liquor store downstairs, the ripe strawberries and blueberries sitting in the mini-fridge a couple of meters away, and of course, the combination of sirens wailing from the streets of the nearby Tenderloin part of town and the angry WROOGOGNGGNNK from the expensive car horns on streets of the adjacent Financial district. I'm actually savoring this by being the anti-tourist; did I mention that I stayed lounging around in the room for the WHOLE DAY?
Good food just makes me so happy, and I have found plenty of reasons to be wandering the San Francisco streets in a delirium of joy. I have not eaten a single bite that hasn't been good. Both Misty and I have made it a priority to indulge in sushi as much as we want, but that doesn't mean we have been neglecting other cuisines.
That's how we happened to discover one of the locals' favourite spots for Indian food, Chutney. Misty and I were looking for something other than sushi one night. After a while of meandering, we figured we'd check out a place on an otherwise deserted street on the edge of the Tenderloin. It was packed with people and the window covered with newspaper reviews drew us in. We stood in line, grabbed menus and I handed an extra one to the folks behind me, including Tanvir.
Tanvir was a regular at Chutney. So much so that when they see him at the cash, the guys working there don't even have to ask what he wants. He didn't need a menu, but he thought we were really nice to have handed him one. Next thing we know, he's paid for our dinners. We tell him he must sit and have his dinner with us. We find out his wife is Chinese, and his kids speak five languages. He finds out that we're from Canada and we just finished cycling the West Coast. We try his curry. He laughs as our eyes widen with pain. And then we say thanks to each other as the meal ends, and we walk out into the night with a belly full of yum and a nice warm fuzzy in the heart. I don't think it gets any better.
