speaking of bookstores

in north beach, at the corner of columbus and broadway, a flock of books descends on the city like spirits of the words and ideas and blue moods and voices of a generation.

city lights sits nexts to vesuvio, separated by kerouac alley.  there is history here.  and you can feel it.

inside you will not find hordes of students taking up browsing and reading space with free wifi and lattes.  you will find a poetry section beyond imagination that invites exploration of the soul written down. 

it's tiny and cramped and old.  the wood and paper and tile and glass hold subtle energy of years of seekers of knowlege, inspiration, respite from a world moving too fast and too slow.

i could have stayed here for hours.  every single book seemed important and worth a look.  there was nothing here that betrayed the spirit of the written word and its true intention.  {there is actually a 'muckraking' section.}

if you find yourself in san francisco and you love books and history and ideas and a part of you holds on to a youthful memory of struggle and a desire to make a difference, you must come here.

{also, the beat museum is right around the corner.}

chinatown

a girl can get lost in your color and language and touristy crowds.  sometimes that's just what a girl needs to do:  get lost.  there is a frenetic sadness in your air that is oddly comforting.  i squeeze in to the standing-room-only muni.  in the midst of the clamor of a busload of chinese, i find a safe and lonely place to let go.  as we pull away from each stop, i am packed in tight and close with mothers and grandmothers and babies and old men.  the bodies, while individually small and foreign, collectively provide a cushion of security and familiarity.  each time our bus lurches forward from a stop, the recorded voice politely implores me in english, "please hold on."  and each time i do the opposite.  as we rush past the blur of your red lanterns, ancient neon signs, kitschy souvenir fronts and vegetable stands, my heart simultaneously breaks and inches toward wholeness.

five senses friday {san francisco edition}

see

• a thousand red silk lanterns blowing in the westerly wind
• california sunsets.  i miss them.
• the giant full moon over the city
• an entire city decorated with rainbows

hear

• the clank and bells of the trolleys
• barking sea lions at pier 39
• packed in tight on the 8x through chinatown
• the weird silence of a suddenly empty trolley

taste

• apricot and fig samples at the ferry building farmers market
• even with all the foodie options the city offers, i must have clam chowder in a boudin sourdough bowl and an anchor steam at least once per visit
• chrysamthemum and red rose tea
• the perfection of the carne asada taco with avocado at la taqueria in the mission
• the zuni burger.  sweet jesus on market st.  the zuni burger.

smell

• roasting duck and brewing tea
• salted air
• it may be my imagination, but i think coffee smells even better while sitting on a park bench at the edge of the city in the cold wind waiting for the sunset

touch

• the cold pacific rushing in to say hello, welcome back
• mia (all 104 lbs of her) instinctively putting a protective arm through mine and confidently navigating me through a dodgy section of sidewalk in the tenderloin.  it was total role reversal.  in a good way.

happy weekend friends.  more san francisco memories to come.  there are many.

words can't express

my love for this city. 

have a beautiful weekend!