The San Francisco Chronicles....

"I left my heart in San Francisco. High on a hill, it calls to me.

To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars.

The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care."

                             -Tony Bennett

Recently I visited the city by the bay.  I hadn't been in 4 years and was thrilled to be going back.  My expectations for the trip were simple: see the ocean, feel the sun, have new experiences. My flight was changed due to weather so instead of arriving at 1 am I arrived at 1 pm.  I  rented a car and within 6 minutes of driving and merging onto the highway I got pulled over for speeding, "oh sorry officer, the speed limit isn't 95?" No. It was 65. He wrote me the ticket for going 75 (whew), I asked him to point me in the direction of the PCH and off I went. Apparently seeing the ocean doesn't come cheap, at least not when I'm driving. I drove for about 30 minutes along the ocean before pulling off onto a nearby beach and just walking (wandering) around for awhile....ahh....inhale the good shit, exhale the bullshit. One expectation already exceeded.

Eventually I made my way back towards the BART station, parked, and took the train into SF. I was ridiculously jet lagged and my TC (travel companion) was still at work for another hour so he directed me to a bar, Zero Zero. I made my way in and was the first one at the bar - it was only 4:00 afterall.  I ordered a prosecco and proceeded to chat up the bartenders. One used to live in Oklahoma City and Ohio and kept wondering why I didn't live in SF.  The other was an SF native and taught sailing lessons - I promised next time in town to take one. By the time my TC arrived I'd managed to ingest a prosecco, a martini, and a margarita - not bad for my first afternoon in town.  We ordered a pizza - what they're known for and it was delicious. It had been a bit since I'd seen my TC so it was nice to catch up, see how he was doing - although I could tell he was distant - somewhere else so to speak. 

The next morning we rode the train into the city together.  He went to work. I went to yoga. I called an uber afterwards to take me to Tartine, the place where people stand in line hours for bread. Given I've always tried to find the all carb/no workout diet, this place was my mecca. My uber driver asked me about yoga, why I was visiting, where I've traveled, languages I speak (english and broken french, oh and spanish 1-10 - not exactly a linguist) before ultimately deciding I was the "total package" and telling me he was going to join me at Tartine.  I politely declined/lied that I was meeting someone else. I really just wanted to be alone and binge eat carbs amongst strangers.  There was a line out the door, but I could smell the butter - dammit I love that smell.  I ordered a croissant, the muesli (trying to be somewhat healthy) and the quiche. I wanted to order the chocolate cake, pain au choclat and well...one of everything but didn't want to be gluttonous.  I found a seat outside and began devouring my croissant - HOLY SHIT. Best. croissant. ever. My inner fat kid was in heaven.  The glaring strangers judging me for occupying a 2 person table as a single were not.  I ate a few bites of everything before discarding it - I have the stomach of a toddler. 

My next stop was to get my nails done - gel manicure and 25 minute massage for 50 bucks? I'm in. The Asian lady seemed thrilled I wanted a massage.  Upon walking into the room she said "shirt off". "Umm okay, like now? Here?", "YES". Ok, good thing I'm not shy. So off my top came, thank God I got that spray tan. I laid down and the rub down began. "Pressure okay?", "yes, but it could be harder", "oh I can go very very hard". Umm...hmm....not really sure wtf that even means, but this massage is $1.00 a minute, so not sure I can expect much.  "Okay, maybe that's too hard".  She giggled and got down by my ear to say "I told you I go hard".  I wished this massage came with a few shots. When it was over she brought me a cup of water while I sat topless. Completely normal. God I love San Francisco. 

On my way to Haight Ashbury a lovely gentlemen offered me a hit off his crack pipe.  I politely declined this offer, although appreciated the gesture given I think that crack pipe was all he even owned.  I found a local park where I hiked to the top - I love outdoor exercise, plus I was headed towards the sun.  Once I got to the top I did some yoga and let the sun envelop me. I was later told it was a druggie park, in my Vitamin D euphoria I didn't even notice.  Another expectation exceeded.

That night we went to a restaurant called Anchor & Hope.  I grilled my TC on if he'd read my blog - he hasn't, therefore I can talk about him. Since he was distant I of course asked 1200 questions, so many I was borderline annoying myself - minus the borderline.  Overcompensating party of one. The food was good, the wine was better - Antica - get it - amazing. Afterwards he took me to my surprise - I LOVE surprises, LOVE - this one did not disappoint. The Armory - up until 1976 it was used as a National Guard facility, these days it's used as a giant porn production studio and the only one in America giving tours. I'd love to recant tales of seeing porn in action - but that didn't happen (although we were told filming was taking place, rooms are soundproof though).  Instead we got to see all the "sets" and hear stories from a man who, in his own words, "will fuck anything". Cool dude. You do you (and everyone else).  I couldn't help but think as we walked from room to room, who gets the job of cleaning this place up each night?  If you're an open minded person - and quite frankly if you're vising San Francisco then I hope you are - I recommend going, if for nothing else than to say you did. Afterwards we went to a bar where there are naked pictures of women everywhere and when someone orders a shot the tv cuts to a cum shot in a porn. New experiences? Check.

How do you followup a night of porn and shots? By going to Napa of course.  The next morning we drove the hour and a half north to do some wine tasting.  I'd been given recommendations by friends, but you really cannot go wrong with any of the wineries.  We bought some wine, enjoyed the sun, and made our way back into SF - hitting traffic - to make dinner at home that night.  It was nice just to drink wine and relax, we were both exhausted from the night before.  The disconnect still there, the ignoring it, still happening - me and my 1200 questions still rapid firing.

The next day, Sunday, we had brunch and went shopping before ending up at Water Bar, a beautiful oyster restaurant right below the bay bridge. Too bad the ambiance was killed by the disconnect coming full steam ahead.  I could repeat the words that were said, but instead I'll summarize the message - we've been doing this a long time and I don't want to anymore.  On my SF to-do list, this definitely was not on it. He was right of course, I didn't say that of course.  I argued, I fought back. The words I said I don't even remember - they were insignificant.  I remember thinking how much I wanted to convey that we could do this - in a good way, him try and figure out his shit while I figured out mine.  How I wanted to erase the past 15 months and my trail of tears. How I wanted to prove I'M DIFFERENT NOW. I'M NOT WHO YOU THINK I AM. But that's the thing about history, it proves you right until you prove it wrong.  So I gave up.  We went home and me and my bruised ego wondered if I really was going to leave my heart in San Francisco.

The next day I bid him adieu and I set off to wander around SF on my final day.  Due to some unexpected events I ended up changing my ticket and would be leaving the following day.  I went to Magnolia Gastropub in Haight Ashbury.  It was there I would meet someone who would help bandage up my bruised ego and remind me what it's like to just be me, to talk and to laugh and to connect in a genuine way.  He would tell me about growing up California - all organic and smoothies. I would tell him about growing up Oklahoma - all iHop and Walmart. He was a wonderful stranger. 

The next morning a friend would pick me up for breakfast. My requirements were simple: big windows and a view of the ocean.  He had no idea where we were and ended up taking a wrong turn. Just as we were about to turn around we spotted a restaurant...attached to the Best Western - I definitely felt more at ease with this idea than he did. But we parked and walked in and what did we find? Big windows....with a view of the ocean.....

My Window with a View

My expectations for the trip were simple: see the ocean, feel the sun, have new experiences.  I got more than I had hoped for and in other circumstances - less than I had wanted. But did I leave my heart in San Francisco?

No, I've learned to pack that up and take it with me as I go. But perhaps I won't wait another 4 years to go back....perhaps I left something else there....