head still swirling from conference wisdom, the 30-minute bus ride gave me time to reflect while watching the city whiz by my window. I found myself observing my fellow bus riders with curious fascination, and when locking eyes with a few of them, realized that perhaps my innocent curiosity appeared creepy to most. This was a trip of firsts. I had never navigated a city alone, and my inexperience did lead to a few scenic detours. When I arrived to the museum I was in awe. These were the paintings printed in my art history text books, but instead of cropped and flattened, they were alive and in true form. By far one of the highlights of my trip was standing in front of the massive abstract expressionist canvases. I was truly in awe, and I wasn’t alone. The large untitled piece by Rothko dominated the space. I found myself sharing in that human experience alongside strangers that felt more like friends. Unlike our daily spaces, in front of the Rothko we weren’t afraid to touch shoulders, lean next to and emote in front of our fellow viewers. The painting connected us, told a story and changed our behavior. I spent hours wandering the museum, captivated both by the art on the walls and the people who viewed them. It was if we
were transported to our early childhood, a time when everything felt new. After satisfying the painter in me, I had a few more stops in mind: thrift-stores. I can’t resist the musty smell of a garment with history and the treasure hunt that leads me to it. Turns out that the transit was less treasure hunt and more pin the tail on the donkey, but after an hour or so I did manage to find a few shops. Thrift Town is located in the Mission district, a lively community with a wonderful microcosm of cultures. From one block to the next, you hear and smell several different cultures. Bright market stands packed with fresh produce attract boisterous shop keepers and vivacious elderly women who, I assume, are haggling for better deals in their native language. Thrift Town was a large warehouse-like space filled with used clothing. I found myself sifting excitedly through racks next to trendy young men and women who didn’t seem shy about unbuttoning their blouses to eagerly try on their most recent find. My next stop was Idol Vintage. The handsome young employee with his blonde surf shag and pastel bellbottoms was like a neon sign telling me I was certainly in the right place.
WHAT I LOVED Conference This might go without saying; it truly was an incredible experience. SFMOMA I could spend days in there, and would if security wasn’t so tight. Geesh.
The racks were filled with the best of the best. Most of them required more courage than I could muster, but I did find some more subtle items. With a small bag of goodies and the sun fading, I ventured the bus system one last time. It turned out to be equally as eventful as my day. I watched the man next to me consume four cheese and onion bagels and an entire carton of mint chocolate ice cream in nine stops, a shirtless young man swinging from the bus holds, and what appeared to be a stray Chihuahua, vocalizing his discomfort with the entire thing. The following day, my last day in San Francisco, I decided I had to see the iconic Golden Gate Bridge. After all, it is the most internationally recognized symbol of San Francisco. Three failed bus attempts and one cab ride later, I joined in with the buses of tourists in snapping pictures of one of the modern wonders of the world. That was my last experience in San Francisco, holding my camera above the heads of people in front of me as they did the same. All of us sharing the classic cliché tourist shot, and enjoying every moment of it.
Food Almost every restaurant/bistro you walk into has something great. Not to mention some wonderful branding. The Arts Everywhere you turn, from taxi drivers to restaurant walls, art is everywhere in this city. You can’t help but be inspired.
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