...gonna kick the darkness 'till it bleeds daylight... musings of a hungarian in texas

©2003 by Annamaria Kovacs. All contents of this blog are the property of the author. Use with written permission only.

Wednesday, July 09, 2003

San Francisco...

...is small town, compared to the metroplex. But it's surprisingly diverse. When I visited the first time, five years ago, I did not feel it so strongly; probably because it indeed was the first US city I've ever been in, and, frankly, was a bit overwhelmed. Now, even though I was there only for three days, was able to see different parts and feel that difference much better.
Jim lives in the Mission district--well, lively as it is, it's a bit too loud and polluted for my tastes...oddly it reminded me much of Budapest's 7th and 8th districts where my sister lives and where Russ and I lived for two years. OK, there is Borderlands, the coolest sci-fi and fantasy bookstore in the whole world there, just two blocks from Jim's apartment, run by his good friends...Now if only we could transplant that into Dallas...::sigh::
Madeline, on the other hand, has a tiny but cozy place in the Avenues part of town...the Avenues run north-south (I think, as opposed to east-west what Russ remembered when we tried to get to the beach on Saturday morning), and the sea breeze can be felt all the way though even if that particular avenue is not too close to the bay. It's quiet and clean (apart from moody Russian Jew 8-year-old boys who REALLY do not want to go to the synagogue on Saturday evening, and they scream really loud, voicing their unwillingness on the street below), and has (at least from what I've seen) a kind of sleepiness to it.
Then there is the city beach area--we finally got there on Saturday...I had memories of it from my first visit, especially the sand dunes, the crow on the beach, and the little surfers' cafe called Java Beach on Judah and Grand Avenue where the trams turn. I did NOT remember how cold the sea breeze was...big surprise. It was 11 o'clock and we had to turn and flee the beach it was so cold--we've seen natives walk their dogs down by the ocean in parkas. Lucky that we had our coffee and hot sandwich at the cafe before, so we did not freeze completely. There were two crows this time, and Russ got both of them interested for a brief time, by uttering his signature crow-cry.
Friday we spent mostly indoors--Russ had the long-overdue 6-hours Migraine From Hell attack, but after that, and Jim returning from helping a friend, we finally traveled to Stintson Beach, across the Bay, though windy, windy hill roads. I have this thing, you see, for the Pacific Ocean (or the Atlantic, it's the same water anyways...)--the Ocean if you will, which, given that I cannot swim, is a perilous fascination, but I have it, there is no doubt. I stood there on Stintson beach by the edge of the grey-green mass of water, surging forward with white foam-caps topping the waves, little blue-translucent jellyfish things washed ashore under my feet; I listened to the sound of the sea, and the cries of the seagulls ('Mine!Mine!' they cry, undoubtedly that movie 'Finding Nemo' is right in that regard)--and felt, strangely, home.
Now, given that I am from a totally landlocked country who had seen the ocean (the Atlantic) for the firs ttime in England in 1992, that is more than bizarre.
Yes, SF is a great place to visit, and it will always have a special place in my heart--it feels so European sometimes, it's eerie. But I would not, could not live there. It's amazing how that place attracts the looniest lot of this continent. And I got accustomed to courtesy and politeness here in Texas.
Oh, well, this post gets too long too fast; I wonder if anyone ever reads this blog anyway, or if I am just typing to myself. Either way, it was a great July 4th weekend...hope to repeat soon!


Post a Comment

<< Home