Fits and Starts

Day 80
Neighborhoods Covered: Marina
Streets Completed: Prado, Casa, Rico, Retiro, Avila, Toledo, Mallorca, Cervantes, Alhambra, Capra

When it comes to San Francisco neighborhoods on opposite ends of the spectrum, I believe Bernal Heights and the Marina would make a lovely Exhibit A. While Bernal is one giant uphill (scroll down a bit to read my previous post if you don't believe me; those words are the rock-solid truth, I tell you!), the Marina could not be flatter. There's just no noticeable incline or decline anywhere north of Lombard. The neighborhood defines flat. And on Sunday afternoon, that was totally fine by me, as my willingness to tackle hills did not exist.

In Bernal, you're unlikely to find much by way of high fashion; when I showed up to a client's there dressed in black pants (not slacks, pants), she jokingly told me I was way overdressed for the neighborhood. In the Marina, au contraire: while I wasn't slitheringly hideous, I felt like I stood out for being so lackadaisical when it came to my habille.

And while it's possibly a gross oversimplification to say so, I'll do it anyway: whereas Bernal is probably among the leftiest of the lefty, the Marina is one of the neighborhoods that could likely be dubbed Home to Republicans.

But if there were Republicans out and about on Sunday afternoon (and I'll bet there were), they left me free to wander the labyrinth--it is a labyrinth, and a particularly insane one at that--of Spanish-themed (see above), sherbet-colored, sun-splashed streets that make up this neighborhood that could not be closer to the Bay if it tried (except in the event of an earthquake, in which case the landfill on which it was built could give way, or so we're told). Midway through my stroll, I stopped by Kara's Cupcakes for a Sweet Vanilla to speed my steps, and ate it slowly as I retraced my route a bit to hit a few of the streets that begin and end at random points along the neighboring calles. (Hey, when in pseudo-Spain....)

After finishing Capra, I'd had my fill of the Marina for the day, and my feet were starting to hurt, so I headed back to my car. And although, as I sat there and consulted NFT, I considered driving west a few blocks and doing some of the small streets that border the Palace of Fine Arts, ultimately I decided against it. So it was up the crazy steep hill that is Gough Street, then down the other side, back to my Valley, where almost no one appeared to have just come from the gym and the Bay was nowhere to be seen.