My fourth visit to my favourite city was made between 31st May–7th June 2010. Here documents said visit using two of humanity’s greatest assets: stories and statistics.
Never go to America without trying to find the best burger in the area you’re visiting. I had three separate burgers over the week, the best one being a house burger from Darla’s on Irving. Served with fries and root beer, I’m definitely going back whenever I can.
Most people who were met for the first time will hopefully remain or become friends for a long time. This amazing bunch of people include (but is not limited to) these fine gentlemen:
Following my first ever bout of public speaking, my friends and I proceeded to Kennedy’s; a great bar. As with most heavy nights, the first drink is always recalled most fondly, and this was no exception.
Racer 5 IPA
When I cycled over the shrouded Golden Gate Bridge and back, all I could think about was the number of suicides the structure plays host to. Despite the fact that the fog was so thick you couldn’t see the top of the towers, looking up (or down to the water) provided a significant sense of vertigo, which made me feel uneasy when coupled with the strong cross winds and my unfamiliarity with the bicycle I was riding.
On the way back across the bridge towards the city, the fog cleared and a blazing California sun warmed my wet and wind-battered face, erasing the melancholy, dull atmosphere and the subsequent negativity in my head. Everything was right again, and the structure was as it should be; a beautiful, highly technical masterpiece of modern times.
Never have I had such a conflicting experience on a bridge.
|On foot||By bike||By car|
From the roof of the apartment myself and Wil were renting in Cow Hollow, the sun set directly behind the southern tower of the Golden Gate Bridge. On the final night of my stay, I climbed up the ladder with a couple of bottles of Red Stripe in my pockets, and enjoyed the view as the day died.
Such a beautiful, tranquil moment would have been lost on film; I’m glad I didn’t try to capture it.
On Chestnut St I noticed a tiny Japanese restaurant, Enoshima, tucked between two shops. After a Friday of chilling, I dined here alone on the following: “Alaskan Roll” – Crab, avocado wrapped in multi-grain rice, salmon & shrimp; Edamame; Agedashi; Miso soup; 2 bottles (one large, one small) of Asahi lager.
I’ve visited San Francisco a total of four times now, and each time I’ve said to anyone who would listen: “I will live in this city one day”. For me, the Bay Area represents the perfect amalgamation of a fantastic music scene (I’d recommend this book to anyone who likes loud music), a chilled-out & liberal way of life, bloody brilliant food, and over the last few years, a highly appropriate place for me to earn a living.
During this particular visit, I was walking through the beautiful San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park with the sun blazing and a sea breeze on my face when I uttered these words to myself again.
Maybe the second half of my 20s is the part of my life where I can make this happen. Let’s see.