Fifteen Minutes in San Francisco

A few years back I had one of many eye-opening experiences on San Francisco's public transportation routes. 

Rather than convey the story through dry, grammatically-correct prose, I chose a freewrite voice better suited to the lively, elastic vibe of those fifteen minutes. Here it is.  

When I reached the bus stop Saturday night a young Spandex-clad woman rambled full tilt into her phone and a really good listener's ear

A bus rolled up I went to the middle of the last row where I could see everything

The guy in front of me to the left played rap music through his phone for all to hear

The guy in front of me to the right bopped his head along just barely to the beat and

Directly in front of Head Bopper was Full Tilt, still yammering away about a friend whose parents were pushing her through school but she wasn't studying enough because she didn't really want to be in school and

A stop, a cat got on, sat next to Rap Boy, fist-bumped him

Stop after that a middle-aged woman got on with a bunch of bags but

She rode just a few blocks and at one stop as the driver was about to close the back door and move along she suddenly yelled, "Wait! I have lots of stuff to carry. Wait!" And so

The driver waited she got off Head Bopper grinned at the drama, started bobbing his head again to the music

Bus pulled up to Van Ness and Market the guy directly in front of me fist-bumped Rap Boy got up to leave and loudly sucked mucus up into his throat without breaking stride and

Did it one more time as he waited for the green light above the back door to come on

Head Bopper grinned again (the shit you see...)

I got off at the next stop, said to Head Bopper, "Endless entertainment on MUNI"

He smiled broadly, said yes

I came down into the long Civic Center BART tunnel two brothers were playing smooth jazz

keyboards and sax over a drum track

I gave 'em a dollar the saxman said thank you I said, "No. Thank you" and

When I looked ahead I saw a homeless man near the add fare machines dancing in a winding drunk belly dancer style to the jazzmen

He saw me see him as I passed and smiled big and full of teeth except the one in the front which was missing

I smiled back and gave him a thumb's up

Through the turnstile,

Downstairs on the subway platform I ran into a soft-spoken bearded dude from my old meet-up group who wrote verse in a little black leatherbound book, if memory serves,

I said hey, don't I know you?

He said yes

Are you still going to the group?

And so on...

I broke away when the train came

The doors closed behind,

Sealing me in. 

                                                     San Francisco on Truth and Beauty:

"It Starts with your Heart and Radiates Out" includes street art, 

eye-catching architecture, and miscellaneous city scenes 

in a stroll from the Mission to South of Market to downtown

"Crystal Blue Persuasion" is a walking photo tour of San Francisco from the Bay to the Ocean (and a golden sunset) on a pristine sunny day just before Xmas

 "On a clear day you can see forever" explores Noe Valley, Ashbury Heights, 

the Inner Sunset district, microclimates, and street art on a pristine September day 

"A Sunny* Monday in San Francisco" is a day tour of the city, 

from Mission Street to the Pacific Ocean

"Random San Francisco" has 46 photos which range from 

ornate architecture to vistas to murals to sidewalk messaging

"Waiting for the Sun" is an essay about riding the bus in San Francisco

"San Francisco sunset, 12/23/14"

"A noirish door mural in the Mission District"

"The Golden Gate Bridge as seen from the Marin Headlands" 

 *Follow Dan Benbow on Pinterest and Twitter

On a clear day you can see forever.

Mark Twain is rumored to have said "the coldest winter I spent was a summer in San Francisco." There's no hard evidence that Twain actually said this, but it's a claim that's easy to believe when you live here. As in years past, the skies were cloudy and the temperatures mild through much of July and August.   

In September, we suddenly got some true summer weather, as the sun and heat came out of hiding. Monday I headed out with my camera to take advantage. 

I started at the bottom of Hill Street, one of the sharper inclines in San Francisco,

steep enough to merit a warning sign.

At the top of the hill I happened on 

a fitting image for one of humanity's highest ideals

(Click on photo to enlarge)

  and got a nice look at Noe Valley and Diamond Heights.

                                                                                       Perspective.

                                                

                                          As I walked around the streets near the top of  the hill, 
                                                      this stately Victorian caught my attention,
                                                       

                                                     
                                                         as did this vista view on 21st Street, 
                                                            overlooking the Mission District.
                                                                         

A classic Oldsmobile Jetstar 88 was parked 

a few blocks west, at Castro and Hill Street.

Here is the front,  

the profile,

the inside. 

A nearby mirror

reflected the corner house across the way.

I continued west through the Castro District. 

A few blocks from Market Street I saw this cylindrical bay window, 

a common design in San Francisco which always makes me

think of the canisters my dad put his deposit slips in 

at drive-through banks many years back.

When I peered more closely through the blinding mid-day sun, 

I saw this very important message.

On a clear day you can see forever. 

At the top of Market Street one finds this fishbowl view of 

the Castro, Mission, and South of Market districts, as well as

the southern stretch of the downtown skyline

and a hint of the bay.

(Click on photo to enlarge)

          

Crossing into the Haight-Ashbury district, I saw this magical house in Ashbury Heights.

A friendly chap who passed by while walking his pooch said that the house had been the Japanese or Chinese consulate before World War II.  Or was it the German consulate?

He wasn't sure, but told me one of the residents was an interior designer and

                                           recommended that I come back on Halloween, 

                                       Thanksgiving, or Christmas for the special displays. 

(Click on photo to enlarge)

The long view.

From the Haight I went two miles west  

to St. Anne of the Sunset Catholic Church.

St. Anne's is 

the only pink church I've ever seen.

(Click on photo to enlarge)

As I snapped photos,

fog started to roll in from the ocean.

I went to a nearby Jamba Juice to refuel, 

took in the traffic and people traversing

 the busy 9th and Irving intersection, and

did a free write on the prompt "FILL IN," 

since I was writing around a few notes (in red) 

that I'd scribbled on the page some time back.

(Click on photo to enlarge)

After filling the page and slurping an orange sherbet smoothie I went back to St. Anne's. 

It wasn't even 2:30, but the church--and the neighborhood--had been completely overtaken by fog, a common occurrence in the not-so-aptly named Sunset District and

a good example of San Francisco's micro climates. 

Just a few blocks away, at 6th Avenue, 

it was cloudy behind me, facing the ocean,

even as it was sunny heading east, toward the Haight.

As luck would have it, 

against the gray gloom of fog 

the 6th Street intersection was blessed with 

this red star pole,

this pretty yellow swing,

and a winking sun.

Trying to beat the fog, I rode through the Haight District 

down sleepy, scenic Page Street, where

I was passed by a man and dog. 

At Broderick and Page, the fog was still moving east

though blue sky greeted me ahead.

As I made way through the Castro a few minutes later, 

I came upon this silver Mustang 

with parallel black stripes down front and back.

Five blocks on I encountered a challenging hill at Sanchez Street. 

Here's a view from the top.

Further south I found this

watermelon-colored entry in Noe Valley where

(Click on photo to enlarge)

watery shadows of wind-whipped trees

pooled in ever-shifting forms 

on house and sidewalk.

Continuing southwest, 

at the lip of Diamond Heights,

I saw Noe Valley on the left and

Bernal Heights Hill on the right.

I coasted down from on high to the Church Street corridor, 

home of one Daniel Caballero,

who left a helpful message 

for the Parking Nazis.

As the fog invaded Noe, I continued to chase blue skies

and discovered this graffiti artist at 26th and Mission.

Tools of the trade.

Bear woman full-blown,

up close.

Not a stone's throw away was Lilac Street.

It doesn't look like much from this angle,

and the grit was dialed up by the invading fog,

but beauty can exist in the least likely places, with

eyes like marbles and 

hearts of steel.  

Other "Truth and Beauty" photo essays:

"Gone but not Forgotten" is a tribute to a friend who left this world all too soon 

"Random San Francisco" has 46 photos which range from 

ornate architecture to street scenes to vistas to murals

"A Sunny* Monday in San Francisco" is a day tour of the city, 

from Mission Street to the Pacific Ocean

"California in November" captures deep fall natural splendor

"The Golden Gate Bridge as seen from the Marin Headlands" 

                 "Vintage Cars" is an evening tour of old automobiles in the Mission District