Category: Writing (Page 4 of 6)

Fisherman’s Wharf: “Love Match” Photo Tour

December 28, 2014 / Claire

“Tourist trap” is defined as a restaurant, shop, or hotel, that exploits tourists by overcharging. That definition isn’t exclusive to Fisherman’s Wharf, San Francisco’s renown waterfront tourist destination. One could argue the whole city has become a trap of sorts; it’s become so expensive to live there and visit there. But this hasn’t stopped tourists from flocking to the wharf to munch on crab rolls, sourdough bread bowls filled with chowder, take boat tours of Alcatraz Island, and stock up on made-in-China plastic tchotchkes. Who cares if it’s cheesy. Fisherman’s Wharf is a vital part of San Francisco’s history.

According to FishermansWharf.org the waterfront has been active for over 125 years. Generations upon generations of families have been hauling in their catch from the waters around the Bay Area. The prized and plentiful Dungeness crab came from the “… Straits of Carquinez on the inland reaches of San Francisco Bay to the sandy shorelines off Berkeley, Oakland and Alameda. Over the years, clams, the natural food of the crab, disappeared from the Bay. The best crab catches were then made just outside the Golden Gate. Today, the crabbers must drop their crab pots far out near the Farallon Islands in 18 to 35 fathoms of ocean water.”

Like most things in this world, too much of a good thing, overfishing, has caused a shortage. You’d never know that visiting the wharf. Crab and other seafood is still in abundance. But the lobster is flown in from Maine. Shhh, don’t tell anyone.

At Fisherman’s Wharf, it was business as usual. Tourists in their uniforms of bright polo shirts, baggy shorts, and webbed sandals grumbled in long lines as they waited for the ferry to take them on the Alcatraz Island tour. Many gathered around steaming seafood stands, which sold clam chowder in crusty sourdough bread bowls. Moving through the crush, Hayden pushed past a German tourist whose face was pressed into a guidebook, then sidestepped a vendor hawking a cable-car bank in one hand and Coit Tower pepper mill in the other. Crowds annoyed him—except, of course, when they were packing a nightclub to see him play.

Fisherman’s Wharf

trinkets and more trinkets

seafood steamers

chowder waiting to be dispensed in bread bowls

what every frig needs

Maine lobsters

Boudin bakery sourdough Giants fan

crab rolls

Haight-Ashbury: What Era Is It?

December 10, 2014 / Claire

While every neighborhood in San Francisco appears to be undergoing a transformation, Haight-Ashbury seems stuck in either the “Summer of Love 1968” or 1989. I can never decide which. The district has retained its signature attractions and distractions: smoke shops, funky vintage boutiques, skate rats, drugged-out homeless and tie-dyed clothing. In the late 80s, when gentrification was attempting to make a foothold with some new condos, an activist group protesting the development—”Stop the Mall-ing of Haight Street”—quickly formed. Said condo development was then torched. Authorities never proved who was responsible but a clear message was sent to developers that Haight Street was not to be messed with. In 2004, Urban Outfitters unsuccessfully tried to move in and was met with similar opposition.

Recently, my friend Philip and I hit the Haight. We noticed a few changes. All You Knead Cafe—known for its massive, unwieldy menu and hangover-cure homefries—had shuttered after twenty plus years. The repertory movie house the Red Victorian had closed, too. More gastropubs had opened up along with smoke shops offering in-house doctors who could easily provide marijuana prescriptions. Thankfully, the restaurant Cha Cha Cha, at the park end of Haight Street, was still there. We dipped in for lunch and ordered our favorite Caribbean-influenced dishes: plantains and beans, jerk chicken, and warm spinach and mushroom salad. We both hadn’t been for many years; the flavors were exactly as we remembered them. No need to change with the times here. Some things are perfect exactly the way they are.

Later in the afternoon Hayden, Adam, and two new band members—the lead guitarist, a long-haired recent graduate of Julliard, and the bass player, a former roommate of Adam’s who came out of retirement because he was creatively unfulfilled as a dentist—performed an acoustic set at Amoeba Records in Haight-Ashbury.

CDs galore!

stoners ‘r’ us

parklets create community but eat up parking spaces

the many sights

Queen Anne Victoria houses known as Painted Ladies

the go-to shop for fun party clothes and Halloween costumes

tie-dye corner

don’t mess with Shiva

“Love Match’s” San Francisco Photo Tour: North Beach

December 2, 2014 / Claire

Like most areas of San Francisco, North Beach, the city’s Little Italy, has a colorful past. It’s bordered by Russian Hill, the Financial District, Fisherman’s Wharf and Telegraph Hill. After the 1906 earthquake, the wharves and docks were rebuilt by Italian immigrants. The workers and their families settled there and built a vibrant community.

In the 50s the Beats arrived: Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg. Poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti opened City Lights Bookstore. Cafes, bars and restaurants sprung up along with strip clubs. At Broadway and Columbus Ave, the Condor boasted Carol Doda, one of the first dancers to go topless. Her 44” bust line, aided by silicone implants, became a tourist attraction. During the 60s, the acerbic comedian Lenny Bruce challenged the establishment at the Purple Onion nightclub as well as the venue launched the careers of Richard Pryor, Woody Allen, and Phyllis Diller. Punks descended in the late 70s and early 80s. Dead Kennedys, Husker Du and Ramones played at the Mabuhay Gardens, “Fab Mab,” on Broadway.

For this photo tour, I took a walk along Columbus Ave around 11 a.m. on a Sunday. The only people on the streets were tourists. They crowded Molinari’s, the Italian deli on Columbus Ave. They were so happy to be there as they ate copa and mozzarella sandwiches and checked another foodie destination off their list.

Through the earthquakes, economic ups and down, and dotcom busts and booms, North Beach has managed to retain its Italian community and flavor. However, the adjacent Chinatown has been encroaching for some time. Little Italy is becoming littler.

The morning crunch over, Jessica and Penny headed into North Beach. Jessica absorbed the delectable smells of frying garlic and onions, simmering tomato-basil sauce, and freshly baked focaccia from the Italian restaurants and bakeries lining Columbus Avenue. She was famished, and hoped Penny had chosen the restaurant for their lunch wisely. As they turned up Grant Avenue and arrived at Café Fraîche, her heart sank. A raw food restaurant in North Beach? Sacrilege! Instead of gooey cannelloni or puffy ravioli with arrabbiata sauce, a pile of garden mulch accompanied by bone-dry, gray crackers graced her plate.