Having been here once before and not really knowing what to see, I decided that I would download audiotours (Stroll San Francisco Audio Tours) and read what the Lonely Planet had to say about the place. It was a good decision, since I have been able to walk through some otherwise unremarkable areas of town and hear the unseen history of it, imagining for a few brief moments what the same area might have possibly looked and felt like a long time ago. For example, while wandering around downtown, I almost overlooked Maiden Lane, a small street tucked between tall Edwardian buildings. This pedestrian-only street is home to several fashion houses such as Hermes, Marc Jacobs, and a whole bunch others that I don't recognize, as well a number of cafes. While walking along the sleekly designed storefronts and impeccably clean asphalt, the audioguide tells me to imagine the same place with unruly loose women with their breasts bared hanging out of windows on both sides of the street. During the Barbary coast era of San Fran (around the Gold rush time, and so named because it was a haven for "barbarians") this was the place for the men to get some sweet lovin'; 10 cents for one breast, 15 cents for the both of them and a dollar for the works. Broken glass, teeth, piss, blood, and other unnameables would have been paving the road instead of asphalt. Instead of an alleyway of quiet respectability, Morton lane as it was called back then, reverberated with cries and shouts. The lane as it was succumbed to fire during the Great Earthquake of 1906, thus allowing a more civilised renewal.
The same audio tours brought me to walk up Nob Hill (a.k.a. Snob Hill) with a new appreciation. Unlike Maiden Lane, this area has always been a place for the rich to hang out. The steep hill that you have to climb to get here probably justifies the extravagance of the neighborhood; one has to have the means to build a mansion on top of a very steep hill, as well as the means to transport oneself to the top of such a hill. Only those who could afford it could be at the top of Nob Hill and enjoy the spectacular panoramic views of the San Francisco peninsula, away from the bustle of the city. Four industrial barons known as the Big Four took their turns in the late 19th century to build massive estates and mansions designed mostly for bragging rights. Once again, the mansions themselves didn't survive the fires of the 1906 earthquake, but the legacy of the barons remain. The five-star Intercontinental, Fairmont and Huntington Hotels as well as the exclusive Pacific Club stand in place of the mansions for modern-day rich folks.
My next stop was Chinatown, three streets to the east and off the Nob Hill slopes. I had the audioguide explain the history of the Chinese in San Francisco and how the community survived and thrived despite the constant challenges that xenophobia imposed on them. However, what I carried away with me after visiting San Fran's Chinatown was less indignation, but more a sense of pride at how resilient the community has been there. Where they were once shunned and vilified, Chinatown is alive not only with Chinese culture, but also energised with the curiosity of other nationalities coming to see this historic place. I stopped briefly in a bakery to pick up a couple of sweet buns and ran into an older man telling a European family to eat Husband and Wife cookies. While pausing to eat the buns outside, a couple of caucasian girls paused next to me attempting to digest the strains of Chinese Opera (yut cook) floating out from a second floor window. It's those subltle gestures of interest that I find uplifting. I'm not the only one who feels that way. I spent a hour chatting with Dr. Wong, an retired traditional Chinese physician-herbalist who had been here for more than 40 years. The two of us were spectators in a match of Chinese chess, and our chat about the rules of the game led to a chat in Cantonese about what he thinks is the future of Chinese in San Fran. When I asked him if he plays as well, he replied that he does. He pauses briefly and adds: "Sometimes a few young white people come on Saturdays to learn how to play the game. It's nice."
After roasting in the sun the whole day, I head back to the hotel and round the corner to hit the nearest Japanese restaurant. As I head downstairs towards the bar, I am greeted by a loud "Irashaimasei" ("welcome"). Soon after ordering, the guy who's sitting on my left strikes up a conversation about what we both do in life. This progesses to a discussion about California and America being a land of opportunity and entrepreneurship, and he tells me his story about how he left Italy 6 years ago to pursue a research career at Stanford. He's now on his second company and gives me his two cents about his experience. With a firm handshake he leaves, leaving me to eavesdrop on the conversation occurring to my right. An older, white-haired man holds a curvy young woman dressed sorta in a nouveau-fifties style spellbound with the history of how Golden Gate Park was built. Every explanation he gives for the names of neighborhoods in San Fran is met with a loud exclamation of wonder, and a compliment such as "wow, your jacket is so sexy!" I found the man's info really fascinating, as well as the girl's ability to shower praise on him!
Life is really something wonderfully rich. I feel pretty lucky to be a part of it.
