My First Full Day in San Francisco

I walked from the Dakota Hotel to the Adelaide Hostel for breakfast—basically, they serve scones, toast, bagels, butter and jelly. So I had a buttered and jellied (marmalade) bagel with a scone. Afterwards I walked from there to the Asian Art Museum, sightseeing the whole time. There was a paved sort of courtyard by the Civic Center Station that was called U.N. Plaza, with quotes engraved on a cement water fountain and in the pavement, and there were big stone buildings and a lane of pavilions where merchants sold stuff like Buddhas and jewelry. I spotted a beautiful Buddha statue—probably Avalokiteshvara.

The U.N. Plaza faces a big neoclassical building with a huge dome. It looked like it could be a museum (now I’m thinking it’s probably City Hall) and I was ready to cross the street, when I looked to my right and noticed that the Asian Art Museum was the big grey stone Neoclassical building next to me—first I noticed the banners advertising exhibits and then I noticed “Asian Art Museum” carved at the top of the front, columned façade. (The Asian Art Museum was in Golden Gate Park until about 2002, so this building—or rather pair of buildings linked by a modern glass lobby—wasn’t originally the art museum but I rather think used to be a library.)
Benches flanked the front steps, and a couple occupied one bench, so I went to the other bench, because I was fifteen minutes early. While I sat there reading, a little old Asian man came along with a really cute little white, fluffy dog. I think it’s called a Bisson Frieze or something like that—not a vicious yappy poodle. It seemed like a well-behaved dog and even seemed to be smiling. When I thought the museum was about to open, I moved to the front steps to where people lined up. The security guards remained by the front doors for long enough that I came to the conclusion that either their clock was slow or my watch was fast. Meanwhile, I saw little kids go up to the dog and pet it.

When I did get inside, I went ahead and signed up for a membership. It’s $40 for people who live out of state (and in southern California)—and the woman who helped me gave me a bag of goodies (a poster, a magazine, etc) and a pair of temporary, hand-written membership cards.

I had seen that an exhibit “Elephants on Parade” was currently going on, so I headed up to the second floor. There’s a hallway exhibiting Vietnamese blue and white porcelain that has recently been found in the ocean, thanks to ship wrecks hundreds of years ago. Before the elephant gallery, I had to go through galleries of Korean art, and some of it attracted my attention. I stopped to take notes and sketch in front of an Avalokiteshvara hanging, that was close to a big screen illustrated with tigers and mynah birds. I also saw a beautiful, embroidered brocade robe made for a bride, and near it some accessories (like hair combs) and patchwork silk wrapping cloths. Oh, the things you can do with fabric scraps.

The “Elephants” exhibit was in a small gallery and included a piece of fringed and embroidered velvet for draping over an elephant, and over that a silver gilt throne for a Raj, to be placed on an elephant’s back—it was elaborately decorated with lions, etc, and upholstered in red velvet, and there was a an embroidered and fringed red velvet parasol. A display case contained bronze elephants, and the walls were lined with stuff like photos from around 1903, and more cloths behind glass. The next several galleries contained Japanese stuff—there was one room with ancient Japanese pottery, dating back to a time when, as island dwellers, they were out of touch with other cultures and not influenced by them, so they had their own style. This included wonderful clay figures, including a couple that represented female shamans.

I kept going, and there was a gallery devoted to Buddhist art (not to mention a couple of Shinto sculptures representing Kami spirits, and a wall panel explaining the Shinto belief in spirits that shed a lot of light on Japanese anime). There was a gallery devoted to everyday life in Japan, that included a collection of netsuke--a bigger collection than that in the V & A in London, and an off-white (trimmed with navy blue) set of field clothes—robe and pants—dating to at least the year 850. They were made of flax or something very breathable, and I’m thinking that when I use the Japanese field clothes pattern (a Folkwear pattern I bought a few months ago) I’ll use cotton. I didn’t get through the whole Japanese exhibit, when it was nearly 5 pm and I headed for the coat check.

Oh, yes, I didn’t mention that right after lunch (they have a café that serves a variety of Asian food and where I discovered the delights of Thai iced tea), I saw an artist demonstrating Noh mask carving, and there were lots of masks on display. One even was the "Girl with the Pearl Earring," and another was the "Mona Lisa," though there were also traditional masks.

In the evening, after a little time in the hotel (to rest my feet), I went to the Geary Theater, a short walk away, and saw the American Conservatory Theatre’s production of Happy Ending by Kurt Weill and Bertold Brecht. It was a wonderful performance, and the music of course reminded me of The Threepenny Opera. Also, the theater auditorium reminded me of Powell Hall, home of the St. Louis Symphony, although instead of gold and white it was gold, green, and mauve, and it was built more upward than outward so that the balcony steps were steep and the second balcony, where I sat in the second row, was above the stage; I had to look down at it. This wasn’t too bad; the scenery included a walkway high up, and the orchestra was on the stage, just behind this walkway.

Are You Going to San Francisco...

I arrived in San Francisco this morning, but my suitcase was slightly too big for a carry-on, so with many other people I stood waiting for my luggage for probably 40 minutes. At one point, the luggage came up on the wrong conveyor belt, so everyone moved over there and soon we had to move back over to the original one. It was like musical chairs. Or musical baggage claims.
I also got lost looking for the hostel. It turns out that Isadora Duncan Lane is actually a short, dead end alley. Also, since I requested a single room, I had to go to a different building.

Fortunately it was close—half a block away, on Post St. It was built in 1914, has high ceilings and picture rails like the Webster University dorm, and even a similar elevator. It’s one of only four functioning birdcage elevators in San Francisco, and it’s scary. I like stairs. Anyway, this is the best hostel room I’ve ever had: it has a bay window, a bathroom all to itself (the tub has feet with claws!), a fridge, a microwave, a TV, a double bed, two nightstands with lamps, a phone, a closet, a small table and two chairs by the window. Nicer than a lot of hotels. No wonder it’s so expensive…for a hostel. Actually, the other building is the hostel, and this one is a hotel.

I took the cable car (I’m thinking they’re actually antique, not reproductions) to Fisherman’s Wharf, where I wandered around a great deal. The best thing about Fisherman’s Wharf isn’t the tacky stores or the tacky museums (like the Ripley’s Believe it or Not Museum). It’s the scenery: the water sparkling in the sun, Alcatraz Island and other pieces of land in the distance, the Golden Gate Bridge, and of course the sea lions and seagulls. And the pigeons that enter restaurants and clean up after customers. I want to hire a pigeon to clean my kitchen and dining room floor. I had lunch at about 5 pm, at a small Boudin (a local café/bakery) location on Pier 39, and although it was a good sandwich the menu wasn’t as good as Panera, a.k.a. the St. Louis Bread Company.

I witnessed sea lion wrestling on Pier 39. A couple of ugly male sea lions had a fight, and one of them shoved the other off the platform into the water, and the crowd said, “Ooooooooh!” as if they were at a sporting event. I just laughed.

In the evening, I went all by myself to a bar in a rundown neighborhood. Nothing like the full San Francisco experience. It was a Latino neighborhood with plenty of graffiti and stores with gates to go across the front. The bar on the outside looked like a hole in the wall, but inside it wasn’t bad at all. Outside on the patio, where the benefit for the coolest magazine in the galaxy, Bitch: Feminist Response to Pop Culture, took place, I was quite impressed with the ambiance, including small tables and chairs and an orange tree, among other plant life. I met some people, including Lisa, one of the two founders of Bitch. It was her birthday, so in addition to radioactive popcorn there was chocolate cake before the movie screening. Actually, I got a tall glass of cranberry juice from the bar before going out on the patio; I enjoy surprising bar tenders by asking for nonalcoholic cranberry juice. The film was the original Freaky Friday, which is still good after all these years.

I actually took a bath this evening instead of a shower. Relaxing. It’s a deep bathtub to climb in and out of, but worthwhile.

An odd thing I’ve noticed is not only the prevalence of panhandlers, and the occasional street musicians, but if I look confused on the sidewalk while looking at a map, strange men approach me and give me directions and want me to tip them for it. I’ve never before encountered people who expect you to pay them for giving you directions.

I have to mention the Fisherman’s Wharf store with a front window displaying some Asian sculptures, including handcrafted netsuke selling for $99 each. I got really interested and went up to the window for a closer look. A bunch of the netsuke were pornographic and, in my opinion, gross. Ew. There was a fascinating set of animals on a wooden boat, too.

In one of the two candy stores (that I ducked into so I could look over the map without attracting unwanted attention or getting in the way on the crowded sidewalk), I wandered all the way around the store and looked at everything. There were actually boxes of gummi penises and gummi boobs. I had somehow no inclination to buy a box. How would you stick a gummi penis in your mouth? Ew. I did get a handmade collage bookmark accompanied by Ghiradelli chocolate, and a similar little box accompanied by chocolate, and I’m thinking they’ll both be gifts.

I also stopped at a fruit stand and bought the Most Expensive Cherries in the Universe—the price per pound wasn’t displayed, and they looked so good piled up, and I had to weave through tables of fruit to get to the checkout table. It was a small bag—a zip lock bag that was too full to close—and it came out to $8. Ouch.