I left my heart in San Francisco
I took BART with Ed to San Francisco last night to meet my former French conversation partner/friend, Julie. We got off BART at Powell Street, and I stood in front of a Cable Car while Ed snapped his camera. Funny fact about Ann: even though she grew up in the Bay Area and has been to San Francisco numerous times, she has never been on a cable car! We walked up Stockton, through a tunnel, into Chinatown, past all the strip clubs, to North Beach and we finally hit The Stinking Rose and the pungent smell of garlic filled the air. For a starter we ordered a Bagna Calda, a pan filled with roasted garlic cloves and olive oil. Ed ordered a not so good chicken caesar salad, Julie ordered ravioli in a porcini mushroom sauce with a chicken breast on top. I ordered gnocchi in a gorgonzola sauce with asparugus and pine nuts. Julie and I caught up in French for the most part, and I felt bad because Ed kept on spacing out.
After dinner we headed to the Tikki Room on Broadway and had this huge slushy concoction for four of rum, peach schnapps, Bacardi 151 and fruit juices in a bowl with a fire in the middle.
Julie, Ed and I had a heated debate about politics and Julie kept on saying that she didn't know how the American people could be so stupid! I've never heard the girl talk about something so passionately. We covered war, the right to choose, healthcare, rednecks and foreign policy before moving on to the difference between American boys and French boys and sex. Julie told me that men in France don't push you to have sex on the first night, while American guys do. Personally I've encountered several French men that wanted to "faire l'amour avec moi" on the first night. She said that if a girl sleeps with a frenchman on the first night, she's a BITCH!
After we went to Fuse , and Julie and I were both exhausted. I drank what claimed to be "The Best lemondrop in San Francisco", but it was very disappointing, while Julie and I had a smoke break, Ed spilled the rest of my drink. As we left the place, I ran into a girl I used to know named Jen and gave her a two-second update of my life.
Ed and I left Julie at Broadway and Columbus, and I gave her an American hug and two French kisses on each cheek before telling her goodbye. She gave Ed an American hug.
We strolled down Columbus and ended up going into the San Francisco Brewing Company. For a moment I felt like I was in the beatnik era of Jack Kerouac, sitting North Beach sipping on beer while listening to live jazz in the background. That was hot.
After two beers each, Ed and I went into a taxi and the driver told us that he tried to avoid the BART closing time rush because he didn't want to deal with the drunken yuppies that were trying to get back to the East Bay. He told us how San Francisco was so different in the 80's compared to now, that there were more artists and writers, and that now it's just filled with bland people. I told him that was the exact reason why I moved to New York, to be surrounded by brilliant (and not-so-brilliant) creative people, to immerse myself in the midst of people that could potentially inspire me.