Coit Tower... finally

We have been meaning to go to Coit Tower since we got here. But somehow, life just got in the way. New Year's Resolution - do more touristy things in San Francisco. After all, we may not be here much longer. A year and a bit. And we still have places to see - Alcatraz, Mt Tam, the Presidio amongst others. And Coit Tower.

This is a rather austere looking tower which tops a hill on the north-eastern corner of San Francisco, close Embarcadero, up the hill from North Beach, and named Telegraph Hill. The Tower was built to "beautify" the city. I think it's a little austere for that but it is certainly a landmark with great views and the added bonus of 1930s murals with a bit of political bent.

We walked up to the tower from Embarcadero, climbing lots of steps past some lovely houses with damp and lush gardens and gorgeous views of Treasure Island, the Bay Bridge and Berkeley/Oakland beyond.

Of course you can drive up. I don't know why I was surprised to find a very large (for this small hill) car park at the top - I've lived here long enough now. Walking is more fun. We couldn't go to the top of the tower - lift was out of order.

But we did wander around the base and look at the murals. I think this period is my favourite in America's past - not that I actually know that much about it. But my favourite films were made then, and I like the look of FDR and a time when people weren't afraid to be radical and join unions or even the Communist Party. The murals are very much of that time I think. 

Drewes Bros

Drewes is my local butchers. A shop that's been there for over 100 years serving its local community. I was in there today buying some beef for a casserole and some applewood bacon. They sell ethically raised meat, wonderful sausages, wine, fish and so on.

Anyway I found myself in a conversation with the owner after asking him if he was on his own today. Yes, he told me. The recession? No. Whole Foods. Since Whole Foods on 24th St opened his business has declined by over 30%. Now you can say a shop like Drewes has to work harder with that competition. And they are. But there are some things they can't compete on - like the car park out front, or the closure of other nearby businesses that drew custom or the fact that Whole Foods stocks everything and not just meat, fish, wine. I personally think they do compete with WF on price and I also think in terms of service, knowledge, quality and sausages they win hands down.

Now Whole Foods is very nice, for a supermarket. But it isn't a locally run business. It hasn't got the history, the connection. And I know that the locals in this part of San Francisco would hate to see Drewes go. Are they at risk of that? I don't know but I do know that they are having a hard time while watching many of their former customers head off in their cars to the WF forecourt.

If you're reading this and you live near Drewes on Church at 29th then you might like to know that they do discounts on Wednesdays - pick your own discount. If not, well find your own Drewes and support it because businesses like this aren't just for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

My own mural painters

The girls went to summer camp this week. I grew up thinking that summer camp was actually going away from your parents to some wilderness where you learned all sorts of outdoorsy type things and ate undercooked sausages and marshmallows by the camp fire. Actually it is childcare for the summer. You can have all sorts - the general and the specialised activities. We didn't sign up for much as I don't work and so can do the childcare stuff myself. But the Precita Eyes camps caught my eye as E and L love to paint and so I signed them up for an afternoon camp to learn to paint murals. (Precita Eyes is a local arts organisation which runs tours of the murals of the Mission District, collaborates on many murals and runs art courses for both adults and children.)

I was a bit surprised to find that it was a very exclusive summer camp - just my girls and lovely boy aged between them. Possibly the recession is to blame as the course itself was excellent. The girls had a fantastic time and my house is filled with new artworks - corn husk dolls, stained glass windows, clay models, drawings, a green and red dragon puppet - and they all collaborated on a huge mural over the course of the week.

A bit of history

I have been missing old things. I mean really old things. Like buildings which predate the birth of my grandmother. Or antiques which are actually antique as opposed to retro or vintage. Sorry New World but I like things a bit aged. I studied history at university and spent almost all of that time reading about things that happened before the War of Independence.

So the other day as I was passing after a visit to my favourite wool shop, I popped in to the building that marks the beginnings of San Francisco, Mission Dolores (as seen in Vertigo to great effect). It is lovely. A small adobe chapel with a painted ceiling, it was originally part of a much larger complex some of which was destroyed in the earthquake of 1906.
 

A basilica now sits next door rather dwarfing it though it does show a neat comparison of then and now for the city's affluence and architectural tastes. The Mission itself was founded by the Spanish in 1776 as part of their chain of missions reaching north from Mexico. It is worth remembering that Californian history is very different from that of the eastern states. 1776 is the year the Americans formally declared independence from the British but California did not become part of the United States until 1850. Before that it was ruled by the Spanish and then Mexico, and was very briefly an independent republic.

Anyway I wandered through the chapel, past a little model of the mission as it would have been in the hills of San Francisco, into the basilica where a male voice choir was rehearsing. Closed my eyes and I was back in the old world, reminded of other choirs I've heard. Then into the graveyard. I love graveyards. All those lives lived with their own stories sometimes told in detail on the stones, mostly not. The striking thing here was seeing how far most of the inhabitants had come in their lives. Many people were from Ireland, some from France. There were the Spanish of Alta California and in one place wooden markers for the Native Americans of the area. It was a very peaceful place, oddly familiar. I realised afterwards that it was the first church graveyard I have seen since I arrived. Something that is so common in the UK is illegal in the city - no burying bodies within the city apparently.

The best worsted shop in town

Wool. Yarn. Hanks. Skeins. I have found a beautiful wool shop not far from my home. I love yarn. In fact I think I love hanks of yarn unwound and unknitted more than any garment you can make. I still remember a display of hand-dyed yarn hanging outside a shop in Roussillon in Provence which I walked past as a teenager on holiday. Purples and reds and blues against the red red stone of the walls.

In Imagiknit you see this.

I could spend all day there just looking. Somehow buying a tiny fraction to take home and make into something is always a little disappointing afterwards. Rather like visiting a stationery shop - that gorgeous blank notebook won't turn you into Charlotte Bronte or Ted Hughes. And that hank of yarn looks so much lovelier hanging there amongst the others than it will as a pair of socks.

Ice cream soda

I never knew what this really was until last Friday. Turns out it's ice cream with soda poured over it (like, duh!). The Italians have affogato (vanilla ice cream with espresso coffee). The Americans have ice cream soda - mine was vanilla ice cream with root beer. And very good it was too. In St Francis Fountain, San Francisco with actual booths too.

Correction: I am informed by a genuine American that this isn't an ice cream soda. So I'll just have to go back and have one of those as well.

Vertigo and Bullitt

****Warning - plot spoilers ****

This week we've watched two films set in San Francisco. I wonder, perhaps this is the beginning of a challenge - "watch all films set/filmed in SF by the time we leave SF". I think we started with two of the most famous and probably the best.

Vertigo is Vertigo. What can you say? It's Hitchcock continuing with his cool blonde fetish and putting yet another Hollywood hero through the wringer. It is a great movie but also an odd one. I'm not sure anyone is terribly likeable apart from Midge the long suffering not quite a girlfriend. It has that odd slightly mystical atmosphere and it has San Francisco which plays a starring role showcasing some of its best sights. A couple of days after we saw it, we drove down the peninsula towards the Mission where the final scene takes place and Tom and I both thought it was a helluva a long way to drive for dinner. Poor old Kim Novak. She said she was hungry and then Jimmy Stewart drives her two hours only to have her jump off the tower. If you want to see the locations used there's this cool site showing then and now pictures. You can easily find these places now and relive the film.

Meanwhile, I'm pleased to say that I've lived here long enough (5 months) to have worked out that the car chase in Bullitt is geographically inconsistent. It's also quite a slow film apart from the car chase so not as riveting as Vertigo. But it has Steve McQueen so what's not to like.

Anyone got any suggestions for what to watch next? And don't say Herbie - we've seen it.

Very San Francisco week

For the very first time - and I have no idea why this should be - I am sitting blogging from a coffee shop on Valencia in the Mission. Tom has a day off as the rest of the office are plummeting down a mountain somewhere in California. He has skied before but this lot are all very very keen and young and foolhardy so I'm not sure he was up for it. I'm glad he didn't go as I spent Saturday in bed reacting to antibiotics which were prescribed for a gum infection I had last week. Really really annoyed about that as I missed the soups and stock part of my cookery course which I'd been looking forward to all week.

Anyhow, the very San Franciscan part of last week wasn't the toothache or sitting in coffee shops. No. Last Thursday the girls and I went on a march in protest at cuts to the education budget in California. I haven't been on a march in years - not since the chants went along the lines of "Maggie, Maggie, Maggie, Out, Out, Out" - yes I am that old. And I think this was one of the first marches where bystanders cheered, honked their horns and looked generally happy to see us. Even some of the people in cars stuck in the jams were happy to see us.

 We marched from the school towards the BART at 24th and Mission and then headed north through the Mission, along Market and onwards to the City Hall. I wasn't quite expecting the march to be as large as it was. Most schools seem to have taken part and many many students from university and college were also there. The weather was gorgeous, there were loud drums to keep us going, a dancing girl on stilts, several papiermache characters and at least one 6' 6" transvestite in full regalia and pink wig (well it is SF).

 

 

There were also signs saying "Raise taxes" which isn't something you see much in America, or anywhere really. And some (though admittedly not many) Socialist Workers down in the square at the end. We had a great time. The girls walked nearly three miles and never complained. And afterwards we went out for pizza with friends.

The reason this all matters is that California is basically broke. Unfortunately it needs a 2/3 majority in the both houses of the state legislature to raise taxes to cover its costs and as that is next to impossible, the budget is being cut in a drastic manner, which will mean that in the next month or so, redundancy slips will be sent out to teachers cutting their numbers by c. 175 in the elementary schools of San Francisco. Cuts are going to be severe throughout the education system. Leastways that is my novice interpretation of the political situation.

I won't pretend that I think the many many public protests that took place last Thursday all over the US will make a difference to the cuts. From what I understand, it is increasingly difficult to effect real change here and without the ability to raise taxation with a simple majority the governor of California (or governator as Arnie is known) has his hands tied. But at least the staff at our school and the many others that took part, know that the parents and children give a damn.

Happy New Year!

The Chinese New Year is big in this city where nearly a third of the population is Asian. Having managed to miss/avoid the Chinese New Year celebrations in London for nearly 20 years, we decided we really ought to go to this parade. We didn't stay the whole time. Parades take ages to pass, and it seems like geological time when you have a small boulder on your shoulders that wriggles and squawks every time you have the temerity to let go to scratch your nose or adjust your glasses. But we did stay long enough to see the Fire Department, Police Department, several local politicians (who left the audience distinctly underwhelmed) and lots of magnificent tigers, dragons, and lions. It was lovely, loud, colourful. After that we headed home on the tram to pick up our take-away - Chinese of course - and collapse. Lottie the small boulder collapsed particularly quickly, falling asleep in roughly the same time it takes to lie down. Here are some pictures for you.

This weekend: back to school

The main event, for me at least, this weekend was my first lesson in my cookery course. Every Saturday for 12 weeks I am heading off to Kitchen on Fire in Berkeley for a basic skills course. This Saturday, it was knife skills. I'll admit I was stupidly nervous about it. The course is taught by a funky Frenchman (earring, greying beard, unfeasibly French accent given how long he's been here) and his American partner who has permanently surprised hair and beard and lots of tattoos. It was therefore fun, relaxed and not cordon bleu. Thank God. I've only just seen Julie and Julia, as well as having read Kathleen Flinn's memoir of studying at the Cordon Bleu in Paris (amusing if a bit slight). So I spent the end of last week worried that I was going to be useless at everything and not have a clue. Turns out I mostly have a clue - this week at least. And the class is very mixed. There's everything from experienced but bored self-taught cooks like me, to complete beginners (including a newly married couple who were there together as neither can cook, and at least two husbands sent by their wives).

So I have learnt how to slice and chop properly and safely and how to look after my knives. I did not learn how to bone a chicken. I really want to know this but I think it will have to wait for a more advanced course. I'm not sure this course will revolutionise my cooking as I can do most things mentioned in some form and I usually cook without a recipe so I'm happy going "off piste". But I'm not always sure why I'm doing things, or how to check stuff is done, or making sure it tastes the best it can and learning handy tips to make things easier, more consistent and quicker will be great. I think it will give me confidence and broaden my repertoire.

The second lesson I had was spent mostly on my back. Pilates, before you ask. A beginners lesson at which I learnt that my private tutor worked me a lot harder (ouch!) than the class tutor.

Who needs a car?

I love Zipcars.

We took our first one out for the day on Sunday. It is so very easy. I booked a hatchback online - website is also very very simple to use. I popped round the corner a couple of blocks from my house and found it in a car park. Your card opens the car during your booked hours. There's a pad on the windscreen on which you lay your card and it unlocks the car. Then you get in and drive off. If you need to buy petrol then there's a card to pay for it in the pocket of the sun visor. You only start paying for fuel once you've driven over 180 miles. The insurance costs are included in your membership fee. So total cost for the day for our car was just over $80.

 

So what did we do. Well we shopped at Trader Joe's - the less upmarket Whole Foods - for the first time. We then headed off to a garden centre so I am now the proud owner of a lemon tree, some geraniums, lavender, a blueberry bush and I've planted some lettuce and oregano. 

And then we headed off to the beach. The day was glorious and it seemed like the whole of San Francisco had headed down there. 

Microclimates

One of the things they tell you about this city is that it is foggy. The song may be "A Foggy Day in London town" but we all know that there hasn't been a lot of fog in London since the Clean Air Act and very very few peasoupers. Fog here is different. It's not that dirty icy fog we get occasionally or the mist that hangs in the Usk valley on October mornings. It is a wet white moist damp fog (that's three words for wet! but if Dickens can do it so can I) that blows in from the ocean and creeps its way up and around the hills. For the climate nerds amongst you, it's an advection fog caused when the warm tropical air over the Pacific hits the cold Californian waters. Sometimes it hangs around all day. In some areas it is an almost constant feature of the summer months I'm told.

But the good news is that that's not where I live. By sheer good luck and a bit of forward planning we managed to land up in the sunny bit of SF. Our west facing deck often seems to be at the centre of the only blue bit of sky around. Looking all around I can see the edge of the fog but it arrives last in our neighbourhood and leaves first. Today is once such day. The fog is currently receding and I can see that the Sunset district which of course is the fog belt is still engulfed. We now have blue skies and sunshine. A day to potter in the garden I think.

Then again - taken the next morning...

Adding a bit of quirk

I am not a quirky person. You know what I mean. I don't do hats unless to keep my head warm. I don't do cute shoes with bows, or jewelry, or buttons and bibbons, or accessories of any kind, or knick-knacks. It's partly because I like functional stuff. Beautiful but functional please. And partly because it makes me uncomfortable. I don't even wear a wedding ring because I am rubbish at jewelry. Well, that and the whole ownership, public declaration stuff. But mostly because I'm rubbish at jewelry. I'm not saying I'm a minimalist. I'm too untidy for that, and I have children. But I am generally not drawn to the purely decorative.

However. I am now in the capital of quirky. The houses are deeply deeply quirky and people seem to take great pride and joy in making them more so. This is from a house in Bernal Heights. And below from one further down the street.

And it's catching. Plus I find that as I brought nothing personal with me, I feel as if I'm living in an Ikea show home. I need to personalise my space with more than just cooking pans. So this week I have bought stuff. I know. After all that decluttering and ridding my life of stuff, I have added some. I have taken to haunting the Salvation Army thrift store round the corner where so far I have found a couple of pretty plates, a big green glass jug, a basket, a vase. I have also bought some Mexican paper decorations to cover the glass doors to our bedroom - privacy on the cheap.

And most unlike me, some huge paper flowers for the sitting room. All from a very lovely shop called Casa Bonampak.

And about that Pilates

I was a Pilates virgin and really didn't know what to expect. In fact I'd done next to no reading up on it which is unlike me. Someone told me it was like gentle yoga which when I was lying on a torture table being prodded by the lovely but sadistic Christopher seemed a slightly inaccurate description.

Okay, I exaggerate. I was having a one-to-one session with a very nice young man who very quickly worked out that I wasn't aligned properly - being in alignment is very big in Pilates - and thus my knees click and other stuff. How to find out you are falling apart. So the session was spent loosening stiff bits, working out what needs work and doing a few seemingly gentle exercises. Three days later and I still ache. I am going back for more torture next Thursday.

Things I liked about it -

• the fact that he kept referring to an anatomical chart to explain my muscles to me - give me science please, none of this energy flow, chakra mallarkey
• the lack of chanting or any mention of dogs or suns and that Christopher flunked yoga at college so clearly feels the same way as me
• that everyone else there was at least as old as me or looked it. Of course this could just mean that Pilates is for older people and thus I am now old but it made me feel slim and fit looking even if my knees do click a bit.

Things I'm not sure I liked -

• the hurting parts
• the torture tables, pulleys and so on. Though they are probably harmless, they don't look it
• finding out that I walk funny, stand funny and am going to fall to pieces imminently. Oh and that my knees click 

This weekend: art appreciation

We've had another full and interesting weekend exploring San Francisco. Yesterday, we went on a walk around the Mission district which I think is my favourite part of town. It is quirky and interesting and diverse and funky. You never quite know what you'll find around the corner. Tom who works south of SF down the peninsula doesn't get to explore the city as much as the girls and I, so our walk down Valencia, across to Mission and along 24th towards Bryant and beyond was partly to show him around one of our local neighbourhoods. The Mission is known for its murals which are everywhere and I had found a beautiful small playground of murals and sculptures, some reminiscent of Gaudi's Parc Guell in Barcelona, that I wanted to share with him and the girls. And now I'm sharing it with you.





After that we went to the free gallery that is Balmy Alley, running a block between 24th and 25th just west of Harrison. One mural after another on houses and garages and walls. Many political, all individual, interesting and accomplished.




Today, we paid to see art at the SF Museum of Modern Art. Many galleries were closed as they are currently installing several new shows, but we saw enough to realize that this is a major museum with an excellent collection. Some beautiful Picassos, Matisses, Klees and Pollacks plus some later conceptual pieces that led to unsatisfactory conversations with my youngest ("What's that?" "I don't know." "But why is that boot there?" "I don't know but don't touch" "But why" "Shall we go and look at that picture of flowers?").