And he went zooming past, on the deserted roads in Richmond district, as if with some urgent sense of purpose. And I'm not surprised...
West Coast, Bay Area, SF - these terms always carried away my mind into a world of sunny beaches, beautiful hikes, outdoor sports, night camping and nature trails, all centered around a lively and thriving city. And with that mindset I always wanted to work here. And now, I am!
As the time neared, I was quite apprehensive about leaving NYC as I felt I had got used to it. Quite the same way, in striking contrast, as I felt about leaving Ithaca (upstate NY, for those of you who don't know)! It didn't sink in that I had actually moved until I landed, pulled my luggage from the conveyor belt, hoarded a shuttle and came at the hotel I'd booked. It all seemed perfect - a bright sunny sky, lots of stores and restaurants around and happy faces. I had done my homework and had booked the day to go look at a few listings where I would be establishing my abode for the foreseeable future. I start off from Taylor and Post where I had arranged some temporary accommodation and start walking south west.
As I came out of my hotel I was absorbed in the revelry around the place and didn't feel that I had left New York at all. I started walking admiring the people, the buildings, the shops, streets, but most importantly, the weather. My thoughts were suddenly disturbed by a fowl stench, and, as my neurons registered it, a familiar one, from the cigarette a guy was smoking on the streets. In an utmost expression of joy he shouted "Hey buddy. How are you doing today? Enjoy Life!" Yes... it was something else, camouflaged as a cigarette. And then I was pulled out of my thoughts and sensed the transition that had brought me into a different neighborhood. I was scared for a bit and thankfully I had the Sun watching my back. I notched up my pace and entered a pretty silent building. It seemed well kept and the manager showed me the apartment. The windows of the apartment opened out to face a blank wall, a completely white wall, and that was the only view from the place. Next.
The office manager cautioned about the region and advised that his building was right at the edge of a neighborhood called tenderloin that is known for its notoriety. The area on Jones St. between O'Farrel and McAllister is what he suggested to avoid. And that was when I began to understand how stark the boundaries between neighborhoods in SF are and how distinct their culture is.
The next few days...
The next day I spoke with my friends who had inhabited the area for a while and asked them about their recommendations for places to live. Most of them had settled down in the Bay area and had little knowledge about the neighborhoods in the city. I thought of then doing some research online to figure out the pros and cons of different areas and headed to a Starbucks close to where my office was going to be. It was closed. AND - it closes at 6 pm on weekdays. I was almost shattered and couldn't help feeling bottomed out and I missed the zillions of results that yelp spat out at "24x7 cafes" in NYC. "Nearby". I decided I needed some freshness and some change and I moved over to stay at my family's in Hayward City.
The week turned out to be pretty interesting as I worked in the day and had fun with my little cousins at home. At the end of the week I found a place to live at Haight. My colleagues had a nice impression of the place with the different eating and hanging joints and that helped me feel positive. But I guess a difference in perspective was again not on my side. As I roamed about Haight trying to explore around I wasn't completely at ease in my mind. I had felt quite similar as I had come out of 16th St. at Mission on BART and it suddenly seemed quite clear. There was quite a visual element to the buildings. Almost all of them were really graphic with the most plain ones also having some graffiti. All these areas - Tenderloin, Haight, Mission St. had some extreme visual graphics on the building walls - hypnotic patterns, dark designs, distorted figures of human body, graphic visualization of "plant leaves", hippie color combinations, etc. To further enrich this appeal these areas were populated by a different breed of adventurers some sporting braided hear, tattoos all over face, pierced lips and eyebrows, heavy beard, half torn clothing, etc. Add on to the fact that many of them have a very stout built, in the first few days I used to feel mildly threatened with their presence. Even as a New Yorker (if I may call myself that) who has seen his share of unique aspects in people, the ratio of such a breed together with their high visibility and coupled with an extremely graphic setting of the visually rich images on buildings construes an uneasy threatening feeling, especially for someone new. Like me. I remember the first time I walked down on Market St. towards Van Ness and after the 4th-5th st. the neighborhood took a sudden transformation. I wasn't surprised as the maps indicated I was at the border of Tenderloin. There were small groups of loud and stout men lingering around, smoking stuff and having music play around. Another group of street kids, the kind who looked up to the former group of men, huddled together with a basketball taking turns on passing it around without any regard to passers by. Add to all this a kind of ghetto appeal that the area has with bright and dark colored walls painted with some abstract art form and with the stores showcasing distorted mannequins with separated limbs sporting respective body accessories. I have never set foot in that area again.
One day I saw a guy walking on the streets completely naked with just a piece of cloth hanging on one side. The other day I was walking on Haight with some take out Thai and after every 10 steps someone would ask "Do you need that food"? I either ignored or gave a rather imperceptible nod without even looking at them. Not all of them were mature, respectable people - one of the "street kids" stomped his skate board that made a loud noise and as my reflexes made me turn he yelled "so you CAN hear me. The next time I ask something, you reply!" I scampered my way back home and was really disappointed with the worst Thai I had tasted. I wish I had actually given it away!
So yeah... the next week I went to check out the Richmond district and it turned out to be quite a residential place with rows and rows of houses lined up. And there he was... a cop, rushing towards the city with a sense of urgency. And you know now why I wasn't surprised!
West Coast, Bay Area, SF - these terms always carried away my mind into a world of sunny beaches, beautiful hikes, outdoor sports, night camping and nature trails, all centered around a lively and thriving city. And with that mindset I always wanted to work here. And now, I am!
As the time neared, I was quite apprehensive about leaving NYC as I felt I had got used to it. Quite the same way, in striking contrast, as I felt about leaving Ithaca (upstate NY, for those of you who don't know)! It didn't sink in that I had actually moved until I landed, pulled my luggage from the conveyor belt, hoarded a shuttle and came at the hotel I'd booked. It all seemed perfect - a bright sunny sky, lots of stores and restaurants around and happy faces. I had done my homework and had booked the day to go look at a few listings where I would be establishing my abode for the foreseeable future. I start off from Taylor and Post where I had arranged some temporary accommodation and start walking south west.
As I came out of my hotel I was absorbed in the revelry around the place and didn't feel that I had left New York at all. I started walking admiring the people, the buildings, the shops, streets, but most importantly, the weather. My thoughts were suddenly disturbed by a fowl stench, and, as my neurons registered it, a familiar one, from the cigarette a guy was smoking on the streets. In an utmost expression of joy he shouted "Hey buddy. How are you doing today? Enjoy Life!" Yes... it was something else, camouflaged as a cigarette. And then I was pulled out of my thoughts and sensed the transition that had brought me into a different neighborhood. I was scared for a bit and thankfully I had the Sun watching my back. I notched up my pace and entered a pretty silent building. It seemed well kept and the manager showed me the apartment. The windows of the apartment opened out to face a blank wall, a completely white wall, and that was the only view from the place. Next.
The office manager cautioned about the region and advised that his building was right at the edge of a neighborhood called tenderloin that is known for its notoriety. The area on Jones St. between O'Farrel and McAllister is what he suggested to avoid. And that was when I began to understand how stark the boundaries between neighborhoods in SF are and how distinct their culture is.
The next few days...
The next day I spoke with my friends who had inhabited the area for a while and asked them about their recommendations for places to live. Most of them had settled down in the Bay area and had little knowledge about the neighborhoods in the city. I thought of then doing some research online to figure out the pros and cons of different areas and headed to a Starbucks close to where my office was going to be. It was closed. AND - it closes at 6 pm on weekdays. I was almost shattered and couldn't help feeling bottomed out and I missed the zillions of results that yelp spat out at "24x7 cafes" in NYC. "Nearby". I decided I needed some freshness and some change and I moved over to stay at my family's in Hayward City.
The week turned out to be pretty interesting as I worked in the day and had fun with my little cousins at home. At the end of the week I found a place to live at Haight. My colleagues had a nice impression of the place with the different eating and hanging joints and that helped me feel positive. But I guess a difference in perspective was again not on my side. As I roamed about Haight trying to explore around I wasn't completely at ease in my mind. I had felt quite similar as I had come out of 16th St. at Mission on BART and it suddenly seemed quite clear. There was quite a visual element to the buildings. Almost all of them were really graphic with the most plain ones also having some graffiti. All these areas - Tenderloin, Haight, Mission St. had some extreme visual graphics on the building walls - hypnotic patterns, dark designs, distorted figures of human body, graphic visualization of "plant leaves", hippie color combinations, etc. To further enrich this appeal these areas were populated by a different breed of adventurers some sporting braided hear, tattoos all over face, pierced lips and eyebrows, heavy beard, half torn clothing, etc. Add on to the fact that many of them have a very stout built, in the first few days I used to feel mildly threatened with their presence. Even as a New Yorker (if I may call myself that) who has seen his share of unique aspects in people, the ratio of such a breed together with their high visibility and coupled with an extremely graphic setting of the visually rich images on buildings construes an uneasy threatening feeling, especially for someone new. Like me. I remember the first time I walked down on Market St. towards Van Ness and after the 4th-5th st. the neighborhood took a sudden transformation. I wasn't surprised as the maps indicated I was at the border of Tenderloin. There were small groups of loud and stout men lingering around, smoking stuff and having music play around. Another group of street kids, the kind who looked up to the former group of men, huddled together with a basketball taking turns on passing it around without any regard to passers by. Add to all this a kind of ghetto appeal that the area has with bright and dark colored walls painted with some abstract art form and with the stores showcasing distorted mannequins with separated limbs sporting respective body accessories. I have never set foot in that area again.
One day I saw a guy walking on the streets completely naked with just a piece of cloth hanging on one side. The other day I was walking on Haight with some take out Thai and after every 10 steps someone would ask "Do you need that food"? I either ignored or gave a rather imperceptible nod without even looking at them. Not all of them were mature, respectable people - one of the "street kids" stomped his skate board that made a loud noise and as my reflexes made me turn he yelled "so you CAN hear me. The next time I ask something, you reply!" I scampered my way back home and was really disappointed with the worst Thai I had tasted. I wish I had actually given it away!So yeah... the next week I went to check out the Richmond district and it turned out to be quite a residential place with rows and rows of houses lined up. And there he was... a cop, rushing towards the city with a sense of urgency. And you know now why I wasn't surprised!
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