Just as I had no idea how much I'd loathe Las Vegas, nor did I know how San Francisco would agree with me. Frisco is my kind of town.
One complaint though - the place seems overrun with Australians.
Our San Franciscan lodgings, the Grand Hyatt on Union Square, were excellent. Large room, comfortable beds, electric blinds on the windows - but no free internet! Something of an anomaly for a US hotel in this day and age.
Having dropped off the rental car, we set out in search of food. In the wrong direction. A couple of dollars to a helpful homeless guy set us off in a better direction.
Homeless people are a feature of San Francisco. Not in the way the entertainment industry would use the word - "Come see San Francisco, now featuring more wretches and toothless crones than San Diego" - but certainly the homeless are prominent and plentiful. Some busk - generally pretty badly - and many just beg. For some, it's a fine line.
The accepted wisdom, as espoused by the travel affionados, is not to give money to the homeless. I don't understand this. Will this make the problem worse? I don't think this is a career choice for these people. San Franciso is cold. Mark Twain allegedly said "The coldest winter I ever saw was the summer I spent in San Francisco." Living on those cold streets can not be a choice, no matter how many brothers spare dimes. That said, I would like to sully my frugal reputation by suggesting we were handing out cash on the streets willy and/or nilly - just to the occassional busker or to someone who gave us directions.
On the corner of Powell and Geary, you can likely find a guy drumming on an array of upturned buckets, pots, and pans. He doesn't play as a drummer would - well, not as I would - but he hits away at the various targets with a pair of sticks, and he sings along. He may not sound great - but he's real. (Not my photo)
Another favourite we came to avoid, was this guy (again, not my photo) ...
The internet tells me his name is Norman Yancey, and you'll find him outside Ghiradelli Square. The internet tells me all manner of things about him that may or may not be true. What I do know is that he holds a guitar, he'll strum an A chord and an D chord, and he calls out rhymes. "Hey pappa, you got a dollar for my supper". Then he laughs a little too raucously, but nonetheless infectiously. As you move on, you'll hear the same rhymes called out to the next passers by - and he'll laugh just as hard. I don't know if he can even play the guitar, but he holds it well as we cross the road and he calls "look out for that bus, and bring be back a couple of bucks"
Even along Haight St, where the buskers took themselves a little (even a lot) more seriously, there was not much actual talent. A little disappointing, but still, I love the whole atmosphere of a city where people perform in the open air.
But back to our search for food, and we found ourselves at Les Joulins Jazz Bistro on Ellis St, listening to Bohemian Knuckleboogie. Bandleader Mike Pitre plays a mean pocket trumpet, and sings with real Dr John growl - but the piano player was woefully disappointing.
The meal was delicious.
This concluding our first night in San Francisco, I may need to leave it there. Unfortunately getting out and seeing things on this holiday is making it very hard to find to time to write about things.
Night all
No comments:
Post a Comment