Contrasts

San Francisco is a city that literally throbs. When you come from a small town it is almost sensory overload to visit here. Why do I love it so much? I’m not exactly sure. I’m claustrophobic, so you would think that this town teeming with people would drive me over the edge, but I thrive on it.

I was sitting in Union Square (across from Macy’s again) in the early hours of the morning. It was a misty, moisty morning, as it so often is in The City. Buses and cable cars rumbled past constantly. The air was split by the screams of sirens as the fire and rescue trucks rolled by. A kaleidoscope of humanity passed as I sat there. As street lights changed, they swarmed across the street like fire ants on a hill. Women in designer clothing and ridiculously high-heeled shoes strutted past me. I don’t see how they navigate the hills, but one woman in silver stiletto heels actually ran up the street! I wanted to stand up and cheer for her.

Serious looking men in crisp business suits strode past on their way to “bored” meetings and such, while a serene group of Asian elders calmly practiced their Tai Chi exercises on the lawn. It seems that all of the passersby are plugged into cell phones and ipods, and all have a Starbucks coffee cup firmly gripped in their hands. You can’t sling a dead cat in this part of San Francisco without hitting a Starbucks Coffee Shop.

There’s a darker side to The City, too. Unkempt old men and women wander down the streets searching through trash cans for recyclable treasures. An “unbalanced” man on the corner shouts obscenities at the top of his lungs at no one in particular and everyone in general. Pedestrians have to be on constant guard against collisions with disrespectful bikers, skateboarders, and pigeons. Yes, I said pigeons. Those airborne rats are everywhere, and they have no respect!

No one walking past looks another person in the eye. If someone does meet your gaze, it’s a sure bet they are going to ask you for a handout. Or else, that they are not from San Francisco. Sure enough, as I wrote those words in my notebook, a man greeted me and stopped to talk to me. He had just moved to The City from Florida, and we talked for a few moments comparing our impressions. We could both see the dark side of the place, and we both loved it anyway.

After San Francisco, we drove north to Mendocino to visit Eric’s parents and siblings. To get there, we drove through wine country on a road that has more twists and turns than a soap opera plot. It makes me carsick every time we go. but the scenery is gorgeous.

This is the view of the ocean from Don and Wilma’s deck; I think I could force myself to withstand watching this as I drink coffee in the morning. In the early hours of morning, all you can hear is the ocean’s roar, and the cry of seabirds. If you choose to go into the town, there are tourists everywhere slowly meandering the shops. They smile and nod as you walk past or stop to chat with you. Though many of the residents are wealthy beyond anything I can imagine, there is no fashion contest. All dress in comfortable shoes and clothing.

Mendocino is one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, yet I could never live there. The isolation would drive me up a wall. Years ago, this would have been my ideal spot to live. I don’t know when I changed. These days, if no family drew me there, a day’s visit is all I would want.

Which would you choose?

Related posts:

1. I Love It When He Talks Dirty
2. Zany Hotel in San Francisco
3. San Francisco 101
4. I Need A Cup Of Coffee!
5. Up In Smoke

Tagged as: "Foreign" Travel, photographs, travel, vacation