A recent Netflix movie filmed in San Francisco has a one-liner dig on my neighborhood: “’Everyone hates the Marina,’ Jill’s coworker tells her. ‘The Marina hates itself. It’s basically L.A.'” As with most works of fiction, there’s almost always a kernel of truth behind the sentiments. As a resident of the Marina, I can say for sure, it’s a complicated relationship.
At a bar not far from where I live, I met a couple who splits their time between Sausalito and Vermont. I had just moved into the neighborhood, or I was still living in the hotel in the neighborhood (I can’t remember which) when we met. We talked about the magic that is San Francisco. They shared that they met here in the city some twenty or thirty years ago. They had their first date at Specs (a cool and notable bar in North Beach) and then many more dates in and around the city. He was a lawyer, she had worked in the nonprofit sector. They love coming back to the city. When we got around to talking about the neighborhood (the Marina), they asked if I was familiar with Dateway (a reference to our grocery store Safeway). I said I was, and that I was vaguely familiar with the neighborhood’s reputation: young, bro-ey, post-college hook-ups. They outlined the lifecycle of the typical Marina transplant. Fresh out of college and beautiful (blond and fit women, tall and fit men) – the Marina chick meets the Marina bro. They move in together, get a golden doodle, get married, have a kid, and then move out of the city – usually across the bridge to Marin. Then the cycle repeats. I haven’t been here long enough to witness the full cycle, but I’ve seen enough of the early stages to believe that this description checks out. The couple whose deck my windows face are young, fit, attractive, and just got a puppy (black lab, not a doodle)…
And you know the stereotype rings true when Lobster Tee, one of SF’s favorite T-shirt companies known for their humorous takes on different neighborhoods, nails it. Their depiction of the Marina is a picture of Ken and Barbie lookalikes walking along the beach with their dog in a pristine “snow” globe. From their website: “Preserved here in its own curated snow globe rests our latest victim, the Marina District. It’s pretty. It’s clean. And it’s…well…pretty clean. And what it lacks in grit or culture, it delivers in eternal sunlit serenity.”
It is it’s own little sunlit bubble in the city.
When I first met my hiking buddy, he gave me shit about living in the Marina. There were a lot of “really, the Marina?” and “you don’t seem like a Marina guy” conversations. I would get similar comments from women I met online. And for the longest time, when someone would ask where I lived, I’d preface my answer with the plea, “don’t judge.”
Over time, I’ve come to defend my neighborhood – though with plenty of concessions. With my hiking buddy, I invited him to come and hang out at my local bar where I promised he’d get a better sense of what the long-time locals are like. He admitted it’s pretty cool, he’s come back a few times and met a few of the local characters. With others, I usually point to the beauty of the physical environment (not just the young beautiful people). It’s usually sunny in the neighborhood, flowers are always blooming, and I have easy access to several parks as well as the waterfront. It’s among the safest neighborhoods in the city and also the cleanest. Lobster Tee isn’t lying.
The concessions I make are that it’s among the least diverse neighborhoods in the city. On the surface, it lacks character. There’s no public art. There’s little to no live music. There are no art galleries, or gay bars, or grungy second-hand shops. Even our coffee shops feel pretty generic. Our restaurants are good, but not amazing and despite having a pizza place named hole in the wall, we don’t have many authentic hole in the wall spots (you know, those little places that look suspect but have amazing food). The neighborhood is, to it’s detriment, homogeneous and a little sterile.
While I wasn’t necessarily looking to live in the Marina, the idea grew on me as I looked for apartments. Being generic felt safe and easy to navigate. The question I kept asking myself was, what do I want to be surrounded by? What do I want to see every day? More and more, I began to value the waterfront where I can walk and run – free from cars and boasting spectacular views. More and more I began to realize that I don’t need to live there to take advantage of those other more diverse and culturally rich neighborhoods… I can visit them whenever I want. The Marina, it turns out, is a great base camp and an equally great place to come home to. The truth is, not everyone hates the Marina.