Birthday in Northern California, Day 2

"Can you spare me some change ma'am, like a boob job?"

There's nothing like waking up super early to get your dibs on the bathroom, trying not to wake up the five hung-over strangers in your hostel room. They say Virgos are planners so I had my shower things and a change of clothes laid out as not to trip around the dark room making too much noise. The cramped hostel was already starting to get to me. A line had formed after I rushed my shower. An old german man caught me on my run back to the room to point out I dropped my underwear. Uuuuuggggh.

Down in the basement there was free breakfast, which consisted of a very diverse selection of carb-heavy options. Bagels, bread, english muffins, croissants, and of course a large vat of margarine and Nutella (of course! We have Europeans in this place).

I start my foot journey to North Beach through Chinatown, which I recommend to anyone visiting San Francisco. Stockton Avenue in the morning is full of groceries getting their shipments in and you can watch what items are 'hot' in Chinatown. Surprisingly the meat markets had lines out the door and it wasn't even noon! The smells were wonderful and the people fun to watch but it was even more crowded then the touristic times to visit!

I made my way to Washington Park and decided to take a rest after stupidly walking up one of the steepest stretches of streets in the Bay Area - Powell Ave. What was I thinking? I found that I had stumbled upon the daily Tai Chi practices of the Chinatown residents. Whether in groups with outfits or like one man completely solo on his work clothes, they did the most gracefully but sometimes humorous moves. Talk about free entertainment.


I started down Columbus to City Lights Books, a historical setting for the 'beat writers' (Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg both had their earlier works published there...). The store was amazing, with controversial fiction, consignment poetry section, a "banned books" section, and tons of biographical material. I started to realize that despite how much of a bohemian I view myself, I had never ever been exposed to this movement. Despite the parody references to poetry readings, bebop jazz, berets and goatees, I had no idea about the players and the beat culture and suddenly I was inundated with a movement of writing I knew nothing about! What better way to learn more about it than to hop next door to the Beat Museum?

(Photo One: City Lights Bookstore, Photo Two: A sign in the corner of the bookstore, Photo Three: Banned Books section, Photo Four: Quote from the store owner in the alley)

With a $5 admission, I was set free in an area full of documents, books, art, a short video, and a very comprehensive exhibit of the beat writers. In the gift shop I must have looked incredibly lost, having absolutely no idea where to start. Luckily the nice employees of the store came to my rescue and literally talked to me for quite some time about their recommendations. I bought a book on the Beginner's Guide to the Beat Movement and a poster that says "Fuck Hate". Why not?

Paintings in 'Jack Kerouac Alley'

I then went to Vesuvio Cafe, which shared the "Jack Kerouac Alley" with the bookstore and apparently where the writers used to hang out a lot. It was a beautiful little place that was dimly lit, full of faded colorful bohemian decorations, and best of all affordable drinks. I planted myself in the balcony room with nooks of booths cleverly named things like "Lady Psychiatrists Corner", and had a beer while writing a few postcards. Very rarely, except when traveling to Europe, that I feel like I have had a truly cultural experience. This far this has been that and the day was early. I decided why not head down to the Haight-Ashbury district to get a taste of 'hippie' culture?

(views from my seat at Vesuvio's)

The best way to get across town was to take the BART system. I don't too much like to be on the subway in a place so prone to earthquakes but alas I made it to the closest stop to Haight-Ashbury. I walked the rest of the way but the entire time was admiring this large mountain. Now I had hiked up Powell Street and was convinced I still had some muscle left, so I hiked up this gigantic hill, I later learned was Bueno Vista park. Along the way I had peaks of views of the entire bay area and hardly anyone around except some kids smoking pot and quietly playing guitar. I laid down at a clearing at the very top and enjoyed the great view and cold breeze, reading some of the books I just purchased.

After a while I realized I was there to see Haight-Ashbury, so I hurried down the hill and delivered right into Haight Street. Immediately I was approached by a group of young punks drinking in the street asking me for change. Block after block this happened and I started to get very defensive... like I was just an object for them to pick on when I was a nice person and would gladly talk with them if they didn't confront me in such an exploitative manner. I have heard from many people this place wasn't like it used to be. My dad once told me the real death of the hippie movement was drugs, and what brought healthy young loving peaceful individuals to become desperate to fund their addiction. Perhaps I'm being very judgmental of these strangers (i.e. the people who hung out on the streets in that area), but I hardly took out my camera to take photos of the beautiful murals of the past. It wasn't worth the hoard of junkies coming up to me asking for change or to ask if I wanted to buy hash. I also realized I had spent the entire day wandering around on my own and minding my own business without being bothered. That can spoil you.

Best tee-shirt I saw at the Beat Museum said in plain text:
"Stop bitching and start your own damned revolution"

That afternoon Matt, the young man from Belgium, called me up and wanted to join me for drinks at Vesuvio Cafe. I thought at first it was going to be a stressful night with having to deal with language barriers but I came to learn how incredibly quick we started to adapt to each other's dialect and soon after personality. I talked with Matt about everything from complex philosophy, racism, spirituality, and general responsibilities of humans. He told me his situation, having chosen to not return to Belgium with his family after a visit here and his dire struggle to find a job or direction to live here. As a good looking, fit, extremely intelligent and open minded person as he was, it really put into perspective how amazing our country is that someone would be willing to struggle so much to stay here.
On a side note, Vesuvio's at night is extremely charming. Old men were playing chess, young couples were sipping on absinthe, a few people had the bohemian look going, and it felt like something right out of the 50s or earlier. Definitely worth the second visit!

Now on every vacation I go on, there is always one extremely awesome and random event that occurs, and on our walk back to the hostel was that event. In a completely deserted Chinatown, I saw three young black men and a bohemian white guy get out of their car that was blasted old school hip-hop. In the street, they all congregated in a line and I knew exactly what they were going to do and jumped in to join them. At 1am I did the Electric Slide, something I have not done since Elementary school, with complete strangers. We all gave each other high fives and they totally thought it rocked that I 'got' it and joined in. Matt stood there almost dumb-founded and I could only assume that he was thinking 'Only in America...'. Back at the hostel the conversations continued. For the lack of company during the day, it was so nice to have such good company into the late night. Very successful day!

Birthday in Northern California, Day 1

"If you are traveling with a small child, remember to put on your mask first!"

I have to thank Southwest Airlines for their incredible travel deals (that allowed me this spontaneous trip), and I absolutely love flying with them... although I think my flight attendant was about to crack. She gave me a dozen bags of peanuts, not sure why, but had a ridiculous smile on her face as if she's just dished out a dozen plastic pacifiers. Oh goodness. Despite the many stops, I got two extra hours when I arrived in San Francisco.

Just like in a movie, upon my arrival at the Adelaide Hostel, the song "California Dreamin" comes on the radio. The first thing I saw in the room was a pair of thong underwear drying in the open window and a joint rolled up below. It looked like the kind of dump rock stars would stay at touring through San Francisco. I dug it!

I hit the town as soon as I was settled and wondered to Chinatown. Immediately I observed that there were about twice as many homeless / crazies and half as many police on the streets. I managed to get my beloved sesame ball from the one cafe still open there in the late afternoon. Heaven! After getting lost in many souvenir shops, which I don't typically care for except for this specific Chinatown that has the most amazing trinkets.

(Chinatown souvenirs, freshly fried sesame ball!)

On the way back I stopped in a Korean-operated dive bar where I got my first sense of drink prices in the city. $8 for a tiny glass of wells? I ended up striking up a conversation with Loing, the beautiful bartender. I ended up staying there for quite a while, striking up conversations with a gay man with a very sick dog, a Spanish man with a thick accent, and Ron, an off-duty police man, who bought me a drink and recommended great places to check out. Loing also bought me a drink for my birthday. What a nice bunch of people!

I went back to the hostel and met the ladies I was staying with. The french girl was the fine owner of the thong and joint, and two English ladies invited me out on the town with them and the others of the hostel that night.
We all waited in the alley which was full of people... some doing art, some blatantly enjoying some MJ, and a young kid running around. They all seemed to know each other like a big family, I almost felt like I was intruding. Very strange feeling. Socializing as I do, I realized that as an American I was indeed less of a deer in the headlights than my European counterparts, which was strange. Among the crowd I met people from Denmark, London, Austria, Poland, Belgium, and Australia. After having a few drinks it becomes very hard to have a conversation with all the accents and having to make sure I was 'talking on their level' if need be.

We all headed to the Element Lounge near the hostel for a free Reggae show. One of my roommates enjoyed my dancing apparently and bought me a drink. I met a very nice Belgian guy named Matt who talked with me about photography for a while. We had plans to hang out tomorrow.

What a fun night! Ahhhh California Dreamin'...

New York City Day 5 : Walk, walk, walk, walk....

Finally I had a good night's rest! I started by day going next door for some coffee and some fruit from their wonderful breakfast bar. It's been so convenient to have the Cranberry Cafe right next to the hostel... great food, 24-hours, and affordable. I've been having to force myself to not eat there for every meal and to actually try out the other amazing foods this city has to offer.

I wanted to check out Hell's Kitchen Flea Market this morning but in order to do so I spent about 30 minutes trying to get around a huge half-marathon race going straight through Time Square. When I got there I felt as if I were intruding on a private party of the vendors. Once again, as for most of this trip it seems, it was a case of 'out and about way too early'. It was incredibly hot today and all they had at this market was full of nice antiques and winter jackets, neither of which appealed to me. On my way out, an Asian man pulled me aside to his massage tent. I insisted that I definitely did not want a massage but he gave me a sample, refusing to let me go. I finally broke loose saying firmly "Don't touch me again." He obviously did not get my business and I bolted out of there.

I decided to head to the Village... again. I was desiring a nice brunch and this seemed to be the area to do so. I walked into Veselka and had a mimosa, the Chef's Omelet (feta cheese and spinach), and some Challah. It was so incredibly delicious, though I'm not sure how Ukranian it was was, haha. An artist Greta Gertler wrote a song about this restaurant (called Veselka) I discovered later and have fallen in love with it! Check it out on the restaurant's website.

I decided to walk down the Bowery to Chinatown to walk off all the food I've even by the ripe hour of 10:30am. I walked past a block dedicated to restaurant equipment, for lighting and lamps, and finally made it to Chinatown. I walked into this place called the White Swan Bakery which had the most amazing array of pastries! I had to try what I can only describe as a 'Sesame Ball'. It was to die for, much better than the already succulent Whole Foods variety. While in Chinatown I decided to venture into the site of a supposed 'Underground Railroad' for Chinese immigrants from the 1880s (at 8 Chatham Square). It was a little basement filled with clinics and therapists and nothing much to see but if my sources were correct, this was the place.

(Photo 1: Ymmm, Sesame Ball... / Photo 2&3: Art on Bowery St)

More street art off Bowery

I continued walking to the Financial District so that I may admire it in its glory on a weekend where all the suits are not crowding the streets. I passed by the Federal Reserve, St. Paul's Chapel, and Fraunces Tavern, all of which were sadly closed on Sundays. I noticed that the Financial District was much like downtown Dallas on the weekend - completely deserted. Thus far I've had horrible timing today, until the afternoon.

I decided to go back uptown to where it seemed everyone and their dog (literally) were - Central Park on a nice Sunday afternoon. Walking through the park I heard some very familiar sounding music... did I hear the Walkmen? Suddenly I get a text message from Ben saying there was a free concert in Central Park - Dinosaur Jr and the Walkmen were playing. How awesome! I found the venue and seeing the large line to get in, I decided to just lay on a big rock and listen to the music echo through the park. Between sets I ventured to Strawberry Fields to the monument for John Lennon. It was a madhouse of tourists and I could barely get a picture of it without someone jumping down to pose. On my way back I ran across 'dance skating' (see video below). Central Park was the place to be on a Sunday! I listened to only a little bit of Dinosaur Jr before heading back to change from a day's worth of sweaty clothes.

That evening I was invited to the East Village to hang out with Ben and his friend Trish (who used to be my favorite waitress at the Meridian Room in Dallas), and Rhett who just got back from Greece and was in town. It was a Dallasite-Reunion! On the way to the subway I ran across a premiere party in Time Square for Madmen. I sat and watched briefly as people dressed in killer 1960s elegant attire were being interviewed and scenes from the previous season were played on a gigantic screen. What great timing I had!

I continued on to the Beauty Bar and arrived just in time for a free comedy show in the back. It was nice to catch up with Trish, Ben, and Rhett and listen to the DJ who eventually played my requested artist - Suicide. I made it an early night, knowing that hanging out with those kids we'd be out possibly ALL night.

Dallasite Reunion!

VIDEOS:
Skate Dancing in Central Park