It’s raining. It’s been raining. We’re in the midst of an “atmospheric river” weather event which, if I’m being honest, seems like a pretty normal rainstorm back east. The only reason these things feel amplified out here is because we get so little rain. I think we’ve gotten an inch of rain so far. While that might be a normal Tuesday on the east coast, that’s more than we get in some months. As such, it causes flooding and mudslides, etc. In anticipation of the weather and the gray skies, I cooked a hearty pasta dinner last night. I also have leftover chili in the freezer. It’s that time of year.
Today marks one of my two San Francisco-versaries. It was two years ago today that I completed my two-month long road trip across the country and pulled the car into the parking garage of the Cow Hollow Inn and Suites on Lombard Street (about two blocks from where I currently live). After checking in, I made a beeline to Crissy Field with it’s beautiful view of the Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge – a place I visit at least once a week. I spent three weeks living in the hotel while I looked for an apartment and a job. December 9th is the other anniversary. That’s when I moved in to my apartment and officially became a resident.
In most respects, San Francisco (and the Bay Area) has surpassed my expectations. The weather is great, the views are stunning, there are lots of things to do, and almost everything is accessible by foot or bus. In my neighborhood, it’s almost always sunny and the temperatures are consistently between 50 and 70 degrees year-round. I’m always out doing something – I go to about twenty-five concerts a year, attend poetry readings, visit galleries and museums, hike, and spend time in the parks. Yet, I feel like I’m barely scratching the surface of what’s available. And I love how easily I can get around. Within a ten to fifteen minute walk I have a grocery store, several bodegas, about a dozen bars, over twenty restaurants, several parks, and access to the Bay. If I had to guess, I walk between 2 and 7 miles a day (though maybe 0 miles during an atmospheric river). In the two years that I’ve lived here, I’ve driven my car about 1,300 miles compared to the 34,000 miles I drove in the two years prior to moving.
Where I’ve struggled, a term I use very loosely, is in fully finding my place and hitting my stride. Dating has been considerably more difficult than I had anticipated – mostly because there are so many other things to do that people (myself included) don’t make it a priority. Exercising continues to be an inconsistent practice that suffers from too many late nights out with friends. Thankfully I walk a lot. Community is equally inconsistent and elusive. I have a lot of bar friends, but not many artist or writer friends. Additionally, I have this nagging desire to be more integrated into the city, but don’t know how. As open and friendly as the city is, certain parts, certain social circles seem closed off by wealth and old-school connections. Just today, the newspaper ran an article about an iconic restaurant, Jack’s, that will reopen as a social club (and not a public one). Their aim is to return it to its glory as a place where the city’s elite made deals and put plans in motions.
The decision to host the 1915 World’s Fair in San Francisco was made at Jack’s. Famed Chronicle journalist Herb Caen and Mark Twain were regulars. Local lore claims (dubiously) that Jack’s was the birthplace of the mimosa, invented by Alfred Hitchcock and San Francisco real estate magnate Louis Lurie. When Ernest Hemingway wanted to cast Ingrid Bergman in the movie version of “For Whom the Bell Tolls,” he reportedly asked her at Jack’s.
Reading that, it’s easy to feel like an outsider and even easier to feel powerless to the backroom deals that govern society. I think that’s why I hang around so many bar and restaurant people. I have neither the fame nor wealth to move in different circles. Not that I necessarily want to hob nob, but living here, I’ve become painfully aware that wealth (or lack thereof) limits what I do, where I go, and what I have access to.
That disparity is something I see nearly every day. The city (and region) is home to more millionaires and billionaires than almost any other city/region in the country. Most of the homes in my neighborhood sell for $3 million or more, and up the hill from where I live is Billionaire’s row where some of the homes have sold for $40 and $70 million. The people who live here, and aren’t lowly renters like me (paying more in rent than my mortgage used to cost), also own homes in Tahoe and other cities. They travel frequently, and they hire help to relieve themselves of the everyday inconveniences of life (laundry, cleaning, caring for their kids). I recently saw a job posting for a family assistant where the tasks included scheduling quarterly deep cleanings of the house, running errands (groceries and dog grooming appointments) and managing the property (coordinating service providers like landscapers and handymen and scheduling household maintenance and repairs). It also listed as one of the responsibilities, “Laundry support (advancing laundry in between twice-weekly housekeeper visits, light laundry, ironing, steaming).”
In my observations, that type of wealth leads to a sense of entitlement, and easily makes people “out of touch.” This has always been the struggle of San Francisco – ever since the gold rush days created a boom town with extreme wealth and extreme poverty. Unfortunately, the modern gold rush tech booms have only exacerbated the problem. As more and more money has flowed in, more and more “regular” people have been priced out. If community has been hard to find, it’s because there are a lot of people here who I wouldn’t define as my type of community – or perhaps more accurately, wouldn’t consider me to be a part of their community.
The rain has slowed, but it’s still November gray – perfect for quiet reflection. Two years in, and I’m about where I would expect to be: still in love with the city, still learning and exploring, and becoming ever more aware of its nuances and faults.