Plus Ca Change

Larkin and Broadway (-ish)

Day unknown (I have officially stopped counting; I do know the date, though: April 4, 2009)
Neighborhoods Covered: Civic Center, Tenderloin, Russian Hill, North Point, Polk Gulch
Streets Completed: Larkin, Polk

Preamble
Those of you with a keen sense of time by now have realized that my Quixotic plan to finish this Walking San Francisco project in a year became null and void approximately, oh, four months ago. There are big swaths of streets I've finished, but there are even bigger swaths I haven't even looked at on my map, let alone set foot on. So the walking continues.

And although I've been hideous about updating this blog for the past *cough cough cough* months, I have actually been walking during that time, though in random spurts. What appears below is the post I meant to put up, oh, 3 months ago. Following this one, I'll post another belated report (from June), and, finally, will get myself up to date by writing about today's walk. Thanks for sticking around.

April 4, 2009
Perhaps because it forms the heart of San Francisco’s Little Saigon, with more small stores and businesses in its southern reaches than its neighboring streets have, Larkin presents less of a Midnight of the Human Soul experience as it wends through Civic Center/the Tenderloin than do Polk Street, to its west, or Hyde, due east.

That’s not to say you’re unlikely to encounter the usual suspects (human and/or animal waste on sidewalks; staggering individuals, possibly dressed in a manner that allows for easy and rapid undressing; grime; &c), but, to Larkin’s credit, they’re slightly less abundant than you might otherwise expect.

As with so many of San Francisco’s streets, both Larkin and Polk hit the extremes of income and, if we might extrapolate, human happiness as they coast from one neighborhood to the next. One the one end, the ‘Loin, where unhappiness and things gone very, very wrong are often on display. On the other, Fisherman’s Wharf via Russian Hill, where you can almost smell the money in the air. (What you smell on the southern end is markedly NOT money.) Roundabouts Geary, things can go fairly rapidly in one direction or the other depending on, well, which direction you take.

My trip up Larkin and back down Polk was in sharp contrast to the last walk through the Tenderloin I did, which was, like the perennial 7th grade challenge, grosser than gross. This time around, things seemed fairly staid and normal. On Larkin, the most excitement I witnessed was a waitress literally running two blocks to hand back a sweatshirt a patron had just left in her restaurant. On Polk, I saw a line of tourists on Segways and mobs of Russian Hill dwellers spilling out of coffee shops and bars all along the street. In all, pretty tame stuff.

My only direct interaction with Polk Street’s seedier side was the young woman, clearly messed up on something, who took way, way too long deciding what kind of donut she wanted at Bob’s (for the record: my pick for best donut in San Francisco). When I finally reached the counter, the woman behind it sighed and said, “She’s not well.”

Luckily, and not surprisingly, the donut was worth the wait, and it made me happy enough that my return trip along lower Polk left me unfazed, standard ‘Loin miseries on display notwithstanding.

Heart-rending

Bonita Street

Day 37
Neighborhoods Covered: Russian Hill
Streets Completed: Bonita, White, Rockland, Russell, Eastman, Allen, Warner, Sharp

After a relatively walk-less week, I drove to Russian Hill on Saturday afternoon and spent some time strolling before I was scheduled to meet with a client. It was a day so beautifully, stupidly perfect that I had one of those experiences where I feel so much love for San Francisco that it almost physically hurts, though in the best possible way. You know the feeling: you feel so much adoration for someone or someplace (or, I suppose, something) that your heart feels like it's been punched, though gently.

I'd missed that sensation, and it was really sweet to have it back for a while.

I zigzagged down from Hyde to Polk, where Russian Hillers were out en masse. As always, having used the temperature inside my house to gauge what I should put on before going out into the world (when will I learn?), I was significantly overdressed. Where others were walking around in shorts and t-shirts, or in sundresses, I had on jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a sweater, and a light jacket. Even for ever-cold me, it was too much, and I actually found myself starting to sweat, at which point I gave in and took off the jacket.

By and large, Russian Hill is not my scene. It's too far from Hayes Valley to be a place I regularly go out (she says, as if she regularly goes out anywhere) and is, on the main, too expensive and boutique-y to be an appealing shopping destination. I've got expensive boutiques all around me in my own neighborhood, thanks.

But it seems to be an interesting mix of chains (Starbucks, Walgreens, Peet's, Crunch), hip restaurants and bars, the aforementioned upscale shop, and regular, unassuming places that have been there for years. And it's a really nice place to walk, what with the cable cars on Hyde and the bustle of the few main drags, provided you can handle a few hills.

On Polk Street, a saxophonist had set up in front of one of the coffee shops. The sun was everywhere, and the sidewalks were thronging with people. I walked a few blocks, ducked down tiny Bonita Street en route, and headed back uphill at Broadway, where I could still hear jazz floating through the air. I ping-ponged between Hyde and Larkin, focusing on side streets (and finishing seven of them) before going back to the car to drop off my jacket and pick up my tool kit.

And then, reluctantly, indoors