Some say that San Francisco is a European city. There are some things I can agree on.The steep hills in Castro are reminding me of a breathtaking Montmartre in France. The buildings are equally light and bright which gives an atmospheric vibe, which is utterly high-lighted in the evening sun.
Another great area for nightlife is Mission, a laid back vibe together with a bustling crowd. It’s a piece of urban Spain right there. Artists are performing in the street and it’s bound to inspire people to some impromptu dancing in the warm and welcoming, night air.
The tram going along the track reminds me of the public transport in the Czech Republic and Hungary. The car is charmingly sweet and brings that extra postcard feeling, especially since it’s so packed with people enjoying the ride through town.Finally, the vintage- and thrift shops remind me of walking around in my own hometown in order to cruise for the latest bargain. In San Francisco, there is in particular one store that demonstrates the biggest amount of wit – outside it says on a big sign – Out of the closet. I convinced my friends to have a quick peek and came out one hour later. That’s exactly what I do in Malmö.
Despite these European elements, there is only one factor that in my opinion truly makes San Francisco an American city. In the words of Daft Punk everything here is harder, better, faster, and stronger. It is like everything here is sifted through the hands of bankers, rednecks and cosmopolitans beyond the sublime. Mind the irony, bigger is not always better.The pavements are broader than the gap between Madonna’s teeth. They can easily fit a whole soccer team, the von Trapp Family or a person with a vivid body language. Space you get, kids.It amazes me how no one is trying to push or shove you around. Everyone seems to share this big space in harmony and joy. The spacious Dolore’s Park is defo worth a visit – bring a nice picnic and be prepared for some interesting people watching.
Next thing is the food, and I do not talk about hamburgers from McDonald’s. In fact, we avoided eating there during the whole trip and refrained from turning the trip into a culinary nightmare. One diet coke and a greasy greasy thing with some extra grease, I think not. No, in fact, the restaurants excel in this city. Tapas taste better. Pasta tastes better. British breakfast, surprise – tastes better! Notably, when we did go for that hamburger we went to a nice and authentic diner where a wide selection of choices were presented to us. I have no problem with multiple choices, actually! If anyone is particularly interested, I chose the Maui Burger. Multi-culti at its best.
The hotel bed is one final thing that I would like to add to the record. Remember what I said about everything being bigger in the States? So are the beds. Never have I slept in such a soft shakedown and I don’t even like too spongy mattresses! For some reason I just love to submerge into this large blob of nothingness times infinity. That’s how it feels like. 8 hours later I open my eyes and can almost surpress the luring feeling of jetlag. Did I mention that the sheets are flowery? Oh yes, they are. They say that comfort kills, but at least I could die happy. In San Francisco.
Ps. While browsing the web I came across this site with some retro photoshots from San Fran. Pretty cool!