get back to my city by the bay

Okay, let's take a break from the walk down Science Geek Blvd, and welcome the newest resident to the area. I do not have anything against other parts of the country, though I may poke occasional fun. There is something to appreciate everywhere. You might think me mad for saying that living in New Jersey had its benefits, but, truly, there are so many things I would have never done if I had not lived there. Of course, some of those things I should have never done, but... well, I'm getting off track, aren't I? Every place has its fine points, but this is my city more than anywhere else. Strangely, this is the place where I feel most at home, though I grew up over 3000 miles away.

When I come home from work every day, I have two roads to choose from. The first takes me up the 101, passing by the Bay, the less pretty part of the Bay. This is the part of the Bay where Candlestick Monster Park sits, where, if you get off an exit too early, you end up in Hunter's Point, praying that locking all the car doors won't be interpreted as an act of hostility. It is a fairly congested road. During the tech heyday, this highway used to be a nightmare from what I hear.

I get off the 101 right before the city traffic really starts to become unbearable. After that, it's nothing but local roads through the Mission to get home. But what beautiful roads they are. This drive cuts through the heart of the Mission, the very bowels of the Mission. Men in overalls splattered with paint trudge homeward. Women push strollers, and these are not the ladies who lunch- these are the ladies who make lunch for the kids before they leave for work in the morning. A group of teenagers congregate on a sidewalk, slapping handshakes with each other, laughing. Someone is drunk on the corner. And, the color. Oh, there is color everywhere. Houses are painted brightly. Murals are everywhere. This is the view as I am driving home on this route:


There is always a choice on how to get from Point A to Point B in San Francisco. Ask five people how to get from the Mission to Inner Richmond, and you'll get five different routes. Some times, I find it more enjoyable to drive the 280 on my way home. The whole experience is completely different. Instead of overlooking the Bay, 280 is nestled in a valley of lush green. As you pass through Colma and Daly City, the fog settles in, blurring all the edges. And you can drive to The Killers without actually getting killed.

But then, as you approach the city, on most days, you cut through the fog. The fog fades away, and quite often, sunshine awaits you. On the exit I take, the road turns off of the 280, and suddenly, emphatically, announces the city. There's a slight incline, and then a drop. And just before the drop, an amazing panorama of the city presents itself. For a moment, you can catch a glimpse of the skyscrapers downtown, occasionally even catch a glimpse of the TransAmerica building or the Bay Bridge. That moment is such a crescendo that I have never quite gotten used to it. After several years, I still find myself catching my breath when I reach that precipice. I tried in vain to capture it on camera. By now, you all know I can't take a picture to save my life, so you're going to have to use your imagination:

Maybe you cannot see it from the pictures, but this is what I love about San Francisco. It exhibits two types of beauty- beauty on a grand scale and on a small one as well. And I love both equally. I love the dirty Mission, and I love the pristine view from Dolores Park. I like the way you can get a severe stitch trying to climb one of the steep inclines, and I like the way the guy who works at the convenience store knows me. Instead of these differences being a dark contrast, they serve to illuminate each other.