A Second Trip to San Francisco

During our recent visit out west, my son and I really enjoyed ourselves, and we had almost everything that we could realistically want under those conditions. One of the few things that we seemed to rarely have access to was an actual computer that would allow me to type, which is the form of writing that I work best under. In our pleasant hotel at Gallup, New Mexico, however, I did gain access to just such a computer, and was able to type the following out, which was a nice break from writing longhand in the little lined notebook that I brought out with me for writing.

Here, I was writing about my second trip to San Francisco, which was one of the great highlights of this past trip. Going to San Francisco always has been pleasant. There is a feel to that city which just exudes warm memories somehow. I had heard it described as one of the world's truly pleasant cities, along with Paris and Rome. While I have never had the pleasure of visiting Rome, I have had the privilege of visiting Paris fairly extensively, and so can concur with this sentiment. 

There is just something different about San Francisco than almost any other city. Perhaps it is the mild weather. After all, it was in the fifties and sixties Fahrenheit on my first visit, during what was a brutal winter which shattered records for snowfall in the northeast. A trip to green and sunny San Francisco was like a breath of fresh air. But then, during this unusually hot summer in the northeast (and much of the rest of the country, for that matter), my second trip to San Francisco featured temperatures that were again in the fifties and sixties. This time, we got to see first hand how hot it was just a few miles away, while somehow in San Francisco, it remained very mild. Indeed, perhaps the weather plays an important role in just how pleasant this city feels, as it seems like it is an eternal spring season there, rarely ever too hot or too cold.

Or, perhaps it is the beauty of the place. Technically, surely, New York and Los Angeles have more artists. Yet, San Francisco feels like a more natural setting for art, and the creativity of the place is everywhere present, in a way that just does not ring true for those other two cities. It is hard to feel the significance of art and beauty while standing in the heavy traffic of the Avenue of the Americas on a blazing hot summer afternoon, with only the impersonal block architecture skyscrapers to provide any real shade. Or, on the flip side, during a brutally cold winter's day, when the winds can really swirl in such places. I have never been to Los Angeles, but seeing some of the neighborhoods there on television or the movies or the internet, you again cannot get the same pleasant feel that seems to come to easily and effortlessly in San Francisco. Perhaps it is the architecture, which is generally lower and more colorful than in most other American cities. Perhaps it is the vegetation, the gardens, which seem more in abundance here than in other cities. Perhaps it is the cable cars, or the neighborhoods, or perhaps the presence of bodies of water everywhere or, perhaps, it is something else.

Whatever it is, San Francisco feels like a break from routine. It feels like the pleasant coolness of a dawn or dusk on an otherwise hot summer day, or like the sun shining through finally after a soggy day filled with rain. Perhaps with a rainbow to accompany the sun's presence. Or, it feels like a mild winter's day after a brutally cold stretch, the kind of day when you can truly believe that spring is on the way. It feels like sitting and enjoying a cup of coffee on a mild spring day, just savoring both the taste of the coffee and the pleasantness of the weather. 

Yes, there is something to San Francisco, something that sets it apart. As far as cities proper are concerned, San Francisco is, to me, the best of American cities, and there is no other city that can compare. It is not overburdening, like New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles can be, although it is big enough to offer much more than most other cities. Some cities can come fairly close to that pleasant feel, and Seattle and Savannah both come to mind. Yet, San Francisco tops them all, I think. Somehow, it just stands apart.

And so, I wrote the following to organize my thoughts on the city of San Francisco while about as far away from it physically as we were going to be while out on our western trip, as we spent the night in Gallup. However, on the morning that I wrote this, there was a magnificent rainbow that appeared over Gallup, which had been alternately raining and sunny, making it feel like a pleasant morning. It almost felt like there was a touch of San Francisco present there on that day!

I had been to San Francisco once before, back in 1996. Frankly, I considered myself very fortunate to have gone on that all expenses paid trip back then. Hell, even now, more than two full decades later, I still consider myself fortunate for having gone on that trip. It was the first time that I had ever gone to the West Coast, and there would be no return trip out to San Francisco for just over twenty years!

There were some things that we had missed back then. Of course, we were there for a convention, and so our mobility was relatively limited.

Still, just getting the opportunity to see such a famously beautiful city was, excuse the pun, a San Francisco treat, if you will!

Back then, we saw quite a bit of the city, although there were two things in the city that we did not really see then, or at least did not get to see up close and personal. One was Alcatraz Island, which we only saw from across the water. The other was the Palace of the Fine Arts.

I was determined to change that this time around.

Obviously, there were some differences - some major differences, between that first trip and this one. I had a lot less hair this time around, a lot more weight on me to carry around, and, of course, most importantly, my son was accompanying me. Nothing against the people that I went with during that first trip, but they were mostly the equivalent of coworkers. People that I worked with in the school newspaper, but not necessarily people that I would hang out with a great deal outside of our working capacity together. Finally, the major, major difference was simply this: most of that trip was paid for, including airfare, accommodations, and food. Oh, I bought some souvenirs while out there, and yes, that was my responsibility. But for the most part, there were no worries about the essentials, because all of that was provided for already.

It goes without saying that this was not the case this time around, when my son and I were going on this trip of our own accord.

And just in case you, the reader, were not aware, San Francisco is a super expensive city. As I understand it, it is the most expensive city in the country to live in. Also, when you go out there, you get the sense of just how expensive everything is. Restaurants, parking, and just about everything else seems quite expensive, although coming from the greater New York metropolitan area, it was about what I could expect, since New York and San Francisco seem to run neck and neck in terms of how expensive each city is.

Still, good things in life often come at a price, and ever since that first trip back in February of 1996, there had been a strong desire to go back and make a second trip out there. This time, I would want to go with different company. Again, nothing against the people that I went with in that first trip and, again, there are absolutely no complaints on my end regarding that trip. I was extremely lucky to have gone on it.

This time, though, it goes without saying that my son means a great deal to me. Part of my responsibility, separate from the financial aspects of taking care of him, was simply trying to ensure that he had a good trip, and that we extracted the most that we possibly could from the trip while out here.

So, after our day in Yosemite, we had the worst hotel experience that I ever had out in Sacramento, in a place with barbed wire and a security officer approaching as we entered the coned off parking lot upon entering fairly late at night. There were other things that bothered me about the hotel, including the conflicting times that workers kept suggesting the pool would open in the morning. No continental breakfast, and very loud and, frankly, obnoxious neighbors. It was a woman and her two kids. One was a screaming infant, although she was not the one that bothered me. No, the kid (roughly around my son's age) was cursing at his mother, using words that my parents would have disowned me for had I used those on them. Their door slammed probably around half a dozen to a dozen times - no exaggeration! And the shouting!

Somehow, around one in the morning, the mother suddenly said, "Okay, that's it!"

A few moments later - it could not have even been two minutes - I heard the sound of them leaving the hotel, getting in their car, and then pulling away, driving off to some unknown and unknowable destination, even at such an ungodly hour, especially for children.

And just like that, they left! They had kept me up, but suddenly, there was no trace of them, and there was peace and quiet!

Finally, sleep came, and even though it was a horrible hotel experience (the worst of my life thus far), the sleep was helpful.

We woke up, spent some good time in the pool, which was that particular hotel's saving grace, and then we were off.

Visited Sacramento, which was a prim and proper small city. Neat, orderly and cute, although nothing truly remarkable. Plus, we were not here to really visit that particular city, which was not the main attraction.

And so, just like that, we headed off for the greener pastures of San Francisco.

Now, on the news that morning, they mentioned that the temperature in SF was in the mid-sixties (Fahrenheit). Since it was in the nineties in Sacramento, it was hard to believe, and so I assumed (mistakenly) that those temperatures were just for the early morning. After all, on my previous trip, it had also been in the sixties, but that had been in February! I knew that San Fran had a reputation of being a bit cooler in the summertime, but that much cooler? It hardly seemed possible.

Yet, that was indeed accurate. It never did reach into the seventies in San Francisco proper, although just across the bay in Oakland, it was sunny and warm.

Very strange!

Also, it was extremely foggy at times, although less so on the second day. Unfortunately, the Golden Gate Bridge remained shrouded in fog throughout our stay. It lent it a dramatic and beautiful appearance, although I would have liked at least one picture with my son and I together, and the Golden Gate Bridge standing proudly in a sunny, clear sky in the background. That would have been awesome, although I did enjoy the fog nonetheless.

The very first thing that I headed for and wanted to see finally was the Palace of the Fine Arts. We had taken a tour of the city back in 1996, although for whatever the reason, we just passed by this beautiful landmark after crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. I happened to see the top of it because I had been looking for it, knowing it mostly from the stamp collection that my grandfather had, which showed that building. Back then, when I was just a kid, I thought it was extremely beautiful, although in person, it looks even better!

Parking was actually free, and we stumbled on a parking spot right away! Extremely good luck, although by the next day, with all of the fees and money involved with a trip to the city and parking, it would be more than made up for, surely.

In any case, we had a great visit to this landmark, which has wonderful grounds all around it, including a garden and a pond, which is filled with animals, including ducks and turtles and swans and such. Incredible!

This time, we really made a point of visiting it, and taking many, many pictures, from every imaginable vantage point, without getting ridiculous. This is pretty much my favorite site in San Francisco, along with the Golden Gate Bridge, so we really made a point of taking our time and enjoying it!

After that, however, we decided to visit some more stuff. One of the places that I thought would be a lot of fun for my son was Lombard Street. Or more specifically, the stretch that is known as the "most crooked street in the world." I had seen this back in 1996 and thought it was cool, and so it seemed my son would surely love it, as well. He did. We actually had a car to drive down this time, and so we did, and took pictures from both the top and the bottom.

Then, we looked out on the other side, and saw Signal Hill, with the Coit Tower. That was another site that we had missed back in 1996, seeing it only from a distance, really. So, we remedied that this time around.

My phone kept insisting that the word I was looking for was Coitus. Of course, the Coitus Tower would lend it a different meaning entirely, perhaps especially so given that San Francisco is the only city where homosexuals constitute a majority of the population.

This place offered a good all around view from above of San Francisco, and this made me happy that we had decided to make the trip out here. Already, we had seen a good amount of San Francisco, and gotten a good feel for the city right from the first day!

Of course, I took the obligatory pictures, and then we headed off to find something to eat. Headed towards Fisherman's Wharf, but there was no parking and it was super crowded. Also, I remembered it being a bit pricey, and decided that it would probably not be worth it just to go there for a few minutes for a bite to eat. After all, we would be visiting it far more extensively the next day.

Also, we were camping, and the campground had security and gates that closed strictly at 10pm. Under no circumstances could we be late, and it was past eight o'clock, with the drive along the curvy, long and winding mountain road being extremely slow. As the bird flies, it is not too far from San Francisco, and is really only a couple of miles outside of Oakland (it might even technically be in Oakland, I cannot remember).

However, we had to traverse curvy mountain roads to get there, which made the going slow, and which made the de facto driving out there take the better pat of an hour. 

The next day, we made it to Fisherman's Wharf. In fact, that was the first place we headed. As it turned out, Alcatraz was out, and would not be part of the trip. They were asking hundreds of dollars to visit the place, which just did not seem worth it, and besides, I had to watch my money, and could not simply blow it on one visit to one particular place like that. So again, for a second visit, I would have to make do without. Unfortunately, this left my son disappointed. Next time, I told him.

We had the chance to go on an affordable boat tour, at $15 per person. This could be a pleasant alternative, although my son at first rejected the idea, still disillusioned by not being able to take the trip to Alcatraz, presumably. I told him that I was disappointed, too, but we were only out here for these couple of days, and we should make the most of it. Besides, this would take us quite near to Alcatraz, and so we could see it in some detail, much better than we could this far out. After a while, he cheered up, and we went on the boat, which indeed, took us under the Golden Gate Bridge and into the beginnings of the Pacific Ocean, and then circled around and took us right by Alcatraz Island, as promised.

Afterward, we visited Fisherman's Wharf, which certainly has it's tourist trap aspects to it. Still, it is pleasant, and I was especially thrilled to find what I was looking for and remembered from the last trip in terms of eating: New England Clam Chowder in a makeshift bowl made of sourdough bread. This is a local San Francisco specialty, and it was wonderful! We both enjoyed our meal tremendously! This was accompanied by some music by a presumably local artist who called himself "One Leg Chuck." He was actually a really good singer, and the sun was out, and by now, we were really both enjoying ourselves!

We searched for some souvenirs for the people back home, and then, we needed to start heading out. My mood soured somewhat when we reached the parking, where we were charged $40 for 3 1/2 hours! I had seen that they charged $10 an hour, which seemed unusually high, but since parking was so difficult to find in the city, and we had to make the most of our visit, I decided to suck it up. But the fact that they conveniently rounded 3 1/2 hours to an even four made me feel a bit annoyed.

Still, we were in San Francisco, and we wanted to visit at least one more thing: the Golden Gate Bridge. So, I tried to get past the bad mood, and focus on trying to enjoy ourselves. We were heading north after that, up to Redwood country, and that would be a fairly long drive. So, let us enjoy visiting this beautiful city while we were still here!

Somehow, it is always fascinating being so near a site like the Golden Gate Bridge. Like the Eiffel Tower, you just never get tired of it. There were people everywhere, walking the length of the bridge on both sides, where there are sidewalks. The fog still covered the upper reaches, although this close, you could at least make the bridge out fully. 

We snapped some pictures and enjoyed the coolness for a bit longer, but it was soon time to go.

It might sound corny, but remembering it now, it does feel a bit like we left our hearts, or at least part of it, in San Francisco.