a sunday stroll

To give the legs a rest we were heading out to the ocean, Carol had never seen the Pacific and I wanted to see if looking west over water would be the same as from Sally’s Cove.right brother I am going his way thanks.
The Gulf of St. Lawrence has the Pacific beat as it lived up to its name.

After getting down from the MUNI line along Judah and holding our breaths in the toilets, out to the water where some kites were flying, some people were fishing, a homeless person had stored his belongings and there were remnants of bonfires. Oh so bucolic.

The official walk was through Golden Gate Park back to UCSF. Walking parks aren’t things that I am interested in I prefer neighbourhoods. There are two things that I photograph things and street furniture and I find parks are lacking in both – especially parks that border on wilderness.

Ah but this is why one travels with someone. While she was looking at the potted and dried plants that grow wild out here, I was noticing San Fran’s not so hidden problem.

I went to photograph some things when I realised that I was photographing a homeless person’s encampment. It was discrete, neatly arranged, and the sort of thing one would pass thinking that a parks worker had missed something until I looked in and saw the sleeping bag and more valuable objects.

I photographed it. Being a cold-hearted bastard, the only thing I could think of was was Ubaldo and colour the right choice or should I go black and white and more rectangular. Nope colour it was, in homage to the Wizard of Oz in reverse and She’s Gotta Have it. Ran across two more encampments in the park one just around from a full picnic area another I couldn’t photograph as someone was in it. I want the belongings not the people as they are too loaded a subject matter and prone to value judgements. Without the people while the places were neat there was the hint that it was left.

This brought back the plight of the homeless in San Fran. They are everywhere and it seems people can ignore them the way the rich ignore the poor in say Mumbai. I noticed by simply acknowledging them was a start in making them feel human. They would thank us for simply saying sorry when they asked for money or trying to sell the local paper. Later on my own walking down to the Civic Centre MUNI station seeing a wheelchair bound man trying to make it up the hill, I offered help. When I started to push him up another homeless came.
-That’s all

I guess I would trouble me less if this were Baltimore where the place looks like it is barely surviving but as I have said this is San Francisco. Our hotel in the tenderloin was $300 a night and we had to walk pass places where people were waiting to get inside for the evening. Saw one valet at the corner of O’Farrell and Taylor outside a posh nightclub trying to chase one away.
-What do you want punk you son of a bitch!
-You know one can’t be here.

Left the park in an area that I prefer just south of the park, shops and cafés without the pretension of the areas closer to downtown.

The only chain was a Jamba Juice. We passed three cafés fought over where to eat and settled on Arizmendi Bakery for the pizza and breads, sat outside started up a conversation with two ladies who seemed to mimic what I was eating. Another reason why I like this area, outside of the nice run down nature of San Francisco south of the Park and closer to the ocean, people talk to you here and don’t seem so solipsistic. Until now the only ones who were decent were the help at the rehearsal dinner and the street people.

San Franciscans are not the friendliest people about this would become even more evident and they are self involved. Find the narrowest point any place and that is where they will stand – entryways, under construction, where halls narrow, they seem to congregate there.

There is a joke. Put two brits in a phone booth and they will never touch put to yanks in an aeroplane hanger and they will run into each other. I think you can add place a dozen San Franciscans in a hotel and they’ll all stand in the doorway.

Naturally I made a snap of the two women. Twice for Ubaldo in decided to jam, so Joãozão came to the rescue. I have come to the conclusion that he will be used until he finally falls apart in my hands as he is the preferred camera. The ideal note taker. I’ll miss the Plaubel when it’s gone but I’m not going to protect it.

It is never meant to be this way but after the snack we headed back into the park as I wanted to see Kezar Stadium. We found ourselves in Haight Street so walked to Asbury. This street should be allowed to die. Most people on it parents weren’t born when it was in it heyday and it legitimacy is brought into question when there is a Gap nearby. Nostalgic grime and decay is still grime and decay. It had the feel of a theme park. Sort of a hippie Williamsburg. Wondered if they had people dress up as hippies on week-ends and had sit in re-enactments.

Naturally an area that I wanted to photograph but too many people would need to come early when it was empty.

Then we noticed that we had walked the entire length of Haight Street and since we were just up Market at Powell. We walked back to Nob Hill as supper was being readied for the street people and they were beginning to congregate in various areas along Market.

Found another set of belongings but as I was preparing to make a snap, the pile moved and I put the camera down.

Back at the condo, Carol couldn’t go on but I wanted to walk Columbus Avenue. That was the idea but by myself I started to wander and was too far South of Columbus to pick it up and ended up walking through this utopiaville to the Embarcadero, where another group of street people were staking their claims for the evening. I wanted to photograph the empty encampments but didn’t know if they belonged to the people who were sitting nearby on benches.

Asked, it was ok with them it wasn’t their stuff, made a few snaps, one man came up soon after to sit by his stuff as he was afraid that I was going to take it. In sight of one encampment GQ guy and Cosmo girl were kissing before hopping into their beemer.

Walked back to Columbus Avenue and up it but it darkening quickly put away the real cameras and brought out the digital and made snaps of the tables outside of American Zoetrope – eat your heart out Ngolo – then for some reason all the places selling baseball caps.

Stood and stared at City Lights looked at the books in the window which – of course drew a crowd – see above. None of them knew about the bookshop, Ferlinghetti I don’t know oh Kerouac yeah I heard of him as they look at the books.

Back at the condo I realised that I had walked from Ocean to Bay across the city and that I hadn’t had anything to eat.

Chutneys or Shalamar Shalamar or Chutneys.