thePlace

If you’re going to San Francisco

Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair

If you’re going to San Francisco

You’re gonna meet some gentle people there

For those who come to San Francisco

Summertime will be a love-in there

In the streets of San Francisco

Gentle people with flowers in their hair

All across the nation,

such a strange vibration

….

            Summertime in San Francisco; maybe there’s love-in here, but unlike the Balinese whose heads are ubiquitously adorned by flowers blessed by the gods and spirits, no one wears flowers here, not nowadays.  Only plastic ones wore by the antiquateds would surface on the back alleys frequented by the homeless.  Maybe not as gentle as the Balinese, the San Franciscans are warm compare to most city dwellers.  Yes they are in motion; such a strange ghost-like kind of vibration in grey white San Francisco summer fog….

            Outside, the fog is so thick & wind driven, I can hear it dancing.  Like a huge white impenetrable blanket of waves, from west to east, it engulfs the whole city.  It already began to mute the streetlights outside.  A fog so ethereal, it swirls like the breath of the ghosts, dancing in such beauty and power, it can only brings summer purity.  Summer nights in SF, are inseparable from the North Pacific cold wind and the dense fog.  Almost daily, I witness its marauding expedition, rolling; its fingers wrap the city in its entirety.  One’s field of vision closes, blurry, fuzzy and opaque – it’s especially true for those of us that live in the foggy part (nearer to the Pacific Ocean) of the city who have to live in the fog for days.

            While the rest of the country bake in 100 degree dry or humid summer heat, with its fog and wind that roll in almost every evening, San Francisco is known for its cold dank summer.  The average temperature in January is 51.1° F (10 Celsius) and in July, 59.1° F (14 Celsius) – I looked it up in the almanac.

            In San Francisco, a sun-drenched day is a happy-day. Because it is quite rare, in a hot summer day (say 75-90 degree) the vibrations are markedly stronger.  Despite of the cool wind, people are basking in the rare summer sun - in the steep streets and outside of narrow houses, by the beach, in the parks, in hidden gardens, on curbs.  The yuppies, the hippies, the homeless, the financiers, the computer nerds, the artists, the adopted animal – everyone is enlivened by the sun. 

            In a rare hot summer day, no one seems to work in San Francisco, and if they do – very unwillingly.  A local journalist once wrote, “if I do go to heaven, I’m going to do what every San Franciscan does.  I’ll look around and say, ‘It ain’t bad, but it ain’t San Francisco.’”  It sounds like a puffed up glorified statement – and it is.  SF is neither Rome nor Paris, and although one might not leave his or her heart here, it is quite unique and undoubtedly the best city in the US.            

             A small city by comparison, only about 777,000 people in a peninsular of 47 sq mile (122 sq km).  It is framed by the Pacific Ocean on the west and the San Francisco Bay to the north and the east. Connected by glorious bridges, the walkable undulated city offers gorgeous glimpses of the ocean and the bay with salt-sprayed wind in any hilly streets.  It is famous for its cable cars, rollercoaster streets, the Alcatraz, the golden gate bridge, the romantic summer fog.... SF is chic, has an offbeat innovation and a self-effacing quality so transparently missing from brassy NY and plastic LA.  It almost has a village feel to it every time I return from mega-crowded, fast-pace Asian cities.

               It is a liberal, energetic and diversified city – has a population of about 50% white, 30% Asian, 14% Hispanics and a mean age of 36.5 years old.   And with the wild Pacific Ocean at its side and the mountains a couple of hours away, SF is one of my favorite cities.  The tourists feel the same – more than 16 million yearly.  The homeless feel the same too.  There are more and more of them in the streets now.

            Although a tad lesser then the rest of the country, SF flaunts its share of big super new cars on super huge roads, feeds off over-consumerism, chomps over-nutritious meals and quaffs ethnocentricity…not unlike other developed self-satisfied cities in the world.

            Living in a city, though small, is still exhausting and quite distracting.   I need to be back to the soil.

            It’s been more than a month now since I’m back in this other world.  Feel quite disconnected from the world I have left on July 20^th.   Although I have left Made and the gardeners a list of things to be done while I’m gone and try to touch bases via sms now and then, there is not much news of the Place – Made always seems to have problems with his Hotmail.  

            The qi has gone into a permanent hiatus; Sifu has pretty much stubbed me out of his mind – a natural ephemeral interest that plagues us all.

            Still I think of the Place daily and hope to see green when I return.  In this other world, I’m preparing for the return, the world of gardening is still very much with me – I have been saving organic seeds of every kind, visited and worked in a organic farm just last week, buying on-line and off-line all kinds of healing and gardening books, will be attending a month-long intensive yoga teacher certification course soon….

            Unsure what all these are leading to – I’m taking things one step at a time.