Slumming in San Francisco

I didn't do many of the best things there are to do in SF this time; however, I can still recommend that you go to the wharf, visit Ghirardelli Square , sit on the water's edge and do some yoga or watch musclemen rehearse their pushups with one hand. China Town is a must! Last time I was there, I shopped for fruit with the locals and despite the strange looks I was getting, I loved it! The cable car on Powell street...try to get a seat if you can. The lines look interminable, but they go fast. Eat...SF has some of the best restaurants after New York City; try sourdough bread. Visit the shops at Pier 39, or have lunch there and you can watch the seals interact. See the Mission District, and even if you're not there for business, the Moscone Center and nearby Yerba Buena gardens are beautiful. Walk on Market Street in any direction. Go shopping. Shopkeepers are so courteous here.

Quick Tips:

If you are going to stay in SF only, then you can use their very extensive public transportation that includes BART, their underground. The city is fairly small in square miles, and last time, Chuck and I walked from Market and Powell all the way to the wharf. If you are troubled by walking uphill, don't do this. If you are going to go beyond the city area, you might want to rent a car at the airport, and that alone is a challenge, although they have tried to organize it well. Buses will take you from SFO to another terminal where you have to push your luggage to Hertz, Avis, Budget or whatever. This part is tedious but we got a convertible Camaro, which made it worth it. There are a lot of homeless in SF, and some are aggressive; try to avoid them, and if you're travelling alone, leave your hotel in pairs.

Best Way To Get Around:

Use cabs for short distances. San Francisco is a walking city; it's not as smooth a walk as other cities because of the hills, but this is what lends the city its unique picturesque aspect.

For more on San Francisco and other Northern California Cities:

San Jose

Healdsburg

Go West!

Petaluma

Sebastopol

Santa Rosa

Berkeley

Rohnert Park

San Francisco II

Our suite was on the 8th floor. Room 873 was at the end of two very long corridors. The windows of this corner room are like IMAX surround sound. Only it''s surround sight. It is spacious enough to have a column by the window. Very tastefully decorated with light colors (thank you California for not subjecting me to any of the Northeast decorators'' tastes). Ecru with taupe designs, and the strongest color in the room belongs to a light green and gold love seat with a well appointed reading light above head. Yes, there is a desk, with the requisite phone, maps, hotel directory and such. And the view...The TV set does not dominate the room as it is set to the side. The night tables have marble tops whose color match the carpet.

The bathroom was superspacious, dryer, magnifying mirror, telephone, bath & body works toiletries, super plush towels.

King size bed, dresser in hallway, mirrored closet in hallway, desk with armchair facing floor to waist window. Room for aerobics, dance, summersaults.

Luxurious is an understatement for the Renaissance Parc 55 Hotel. As you walk to the elevators, the marble walls are whispering money, money, money in your ears. You''d hear it even if you were deaf. I''m here as an unashamed, non-working guest. I''m loafing and I love it.

Indoor pool, sauna, massage. All sorts of business services if you need them, although the reception area is not too bright about incoming faxes. My office did send me the same fax three times, and they delivered all 15 pages.

Room service is a marvelous thing when you don''t feel like moving a muscle. And at the Renaissance, they are exceptional about it. I had flowers on my tray every morning, and whenever I called for service. The food was impeccably served, and tasted divine.

If you are on an expense account, this is the place for you. It''s a few steps away from Market Street, and likewise with Powell. If you''re ambitious, you can walk to the Moscone Center, but they do have shuttles buses at the hotel that will take you there.

You are going to be tempted by the devil in this patisserie that wears its name quite well. The vitrine is a festival of color brought about by a profusion of baked goods with strawberries. And chocolate. I normally would inhale one of these fruit tarts without a second thought. However, the first thought is of my generous hips, and I decide to be brave and eat healthy.

Another deadly array of tarts and cakes awaits me inside, but I study the chalk board above the cash register, and decide on the vegetarian sandwich on french bread with an iced mochaccino.

Even though they have been prepared in advance, the sandwich is absolutely luscious as the freshness of all the ingredients is loud and clear in my mouth. I'm chewing on avocado, sprouts, butter, lettuce, tomato and I nixed the mayo. It was either going to be this, or the prosciutto. At $5.75, it's hard to beat.

I sit at a table for one, even though the other tables which can accommodate up to 4 are the same size as mine. They bring my food to me as I settle myself down to be comfortable. The patisserie is small, but there is non-stop activity and it's fairly easy to understand.

Apparently, they also do custom cakes for whatever needs you may have. One person came to pick up her Strawberry tart and it looked amazing. For one that serves 8 people, you'll pay about $32.95. To me that's really 16 people as I think America's servings are a bit too generous judging from the girth of our citizens.

They also serve foccacia sandwiches, as well as an assortment of homemade quiches which I saw through the glass. At $4.95 a slice, you can have ham & cheese, broccoli & cheese, spinach and mushroom all served with a small salad and fresh baguette with butter. For a whole quiche, it's $28.

They have a catering menu, and if I lived here, these folks would be in my little black book. Do stop here for a bite if you are in the area. It's highly recommended.

We had dinner at a very simple, out of the way Thai restaurant. The selection around the theater would leave anyone wanting; there were homeless men and women passing by, and we witnessed a drug transaction outside the restaurant window. The food was reasonably priced and quite fresh; portions were gargatuan.

Chuck tried Iced Thai Tea, and to both of our surprises, it was delicious. Something on the order of Chai, but less biting. He had the chicken pad thai and I had sauteed prawns with vegetables and rice in peanut sauce. For $15, we could have fed 2 more people, and we did.

We walked out with 2 bags; one went to a sleeping woman on a nearby sidewalk who had a shopping cart with her belongings and we placed one of our doggie bags in her cart. The second bag went to a woman who was asking for donations in front of the theater. She even cared to ask what type of food it was. Who said beggars can't be choosy?

The Veranda Bistro is one of the eateries at the hotel, and provides the food for the room service feature.

Two dinners and two breakfasts originated there, and they were all delicious. They are also extremely prompt. Never had to wait more than 20 minutes, sometimes less.

The first evening, I shoot for the California Cobb salad and a Coke. When it arrives, it is simply huge, and I have enough left over to create a cheese and avocado sandwich on sour dough bread for the next day!

I had my first salad with sprouts in SF back in 1985 or so. Although I didn't particularly relish the taste, I felt it might me make as heatlhy as the natives. I must admit that I was impressed with the variety of salads they served and the creativity with which they mixed their ingredients.

The next evening, I had the vegan burger with tomato and lettuce; skipped the fries and asked for a fresh fruit cup instead. And Earl Gray with skimmed milk. I wanted to start with a clam chowder, and was informed that bacon is already mixed into the chowder, but that they will try to scoop out as much of the bacon as possible. Wow! Now that is service!

Dinner arrives literally on a silver platter. Mr. RenaissanceRoomService takes me on a tour of the platter; He notes how fresh the mixed berries are, and reminds me that he did his very best to eliminate the nasty, offensive bacon bits.

This turns out to be one of the most pleasurable dinners I have, as I am being served (primo) and I am able to read in bed as I eat (segundo). And..I have a pot of tea that bears no scent whatsoever of coffee grains. Who said God was dead; miracles are happening right in my room. The chowder is good, but Boston still takes it over SF hands down. Sorry.. Bacon bits aside, they've managed to throw in veggies like carrots and whatnots in there, so it's sort of clam chowder/vegetable combo thing. The vegan burger is terrific, juicy and goes down without a hitch. Tomato and Lettuce follow. Naturally, there are several tea pauses between all these bites. I'm saving the berries for last. Fresh, crunchy and not a single rotten one. Marvelous.

The next morning, I order the Swiss omelet and it arrives cooked to perfection. I totally ignore the potatoes and red onions on its side. There is sour dough bread, butter and an assortment of boysenberry, strawberry and orange marmalade. Someone figured out that some of us totally detest grape jelly and I will dedicate a statue to this individual, wherever he may sit. My carafe of Earl Gray satisfies my morning cravings. Fresh fruit comes by way of raspberries, strawberries, melon, honeydew and blueberries..with a couple of extra sweet pineapples.

This is yet another sidewalk cafe directly attached to the Renaissance Hotel, and apparently is either part of it, or has some sort of symbiotic relationship with the hotel.

It is fairly small, but has great views of Market Street and people, if you like watching. Saturday morning, Chuck and I decided to walk outside the room for breakfast, and I suggested this place as I had seen it everytime I came back to the hotel.

It's great for a quick breakfast, but there were many unhurried people who were eating leisurely and taking their time. They offer fresh muffins, croissants, sweets, coffee , cappuccino, espresso and a great selection of stash teas. No skim milk, but natural sugar which was a blessing.

I had a banana nut muffin that was downright sinful with some English Breakfast tea. They give you the hot water, you do the rest. Chuck had his usual coffee and some sweet confection that was very gooey and sticky. His expression betrayed his delight at taking it apart.

The bill was under $10 and the service is fast and friendly. If you tire of the astronomical prices of the hotel, this is a terrific idea for a change.

The Vagina Monologues opened in New York about 2 years ago. I wanted to see it immediately. I didn't. There were too many changes going on in my life, and things more urgent claimed my attention.

Here I am in San Francisco, in 2001 and I'm finally going to hear what Eve Ensler has been telling women in selected cities. It was playing at the Alcazar Theater on Geary Street. Not your best of neighborhoods, but then again, when something this avant garde comes in, I don't imagine they will trumpet its presence atop of the Golden Gate Bridge. The crowd was 70% women, all sorts of them. I imagined the men who accompanied some of us were very courageous. Undoubtedly, some would sneer at what was being said, others would wonder where the hell they had been all this time.

This theater was apparently a Muslim temple at some point in time. The architecture was intricate, and I caught some Arabic writing on top. It was a small intimate place, that filled up as we approached show time.

It's impossible to critique this play without going into a long and very personal, emotional diatribe. Everyone who sees the Vagina Monologues will benefit. It is presented in a deliciously humorous setting which offsets much of its biting truths. Its message is simple: know your vagina, know thyself. Love it and love thyself. And especially don't let anyone abuse it. It brings new life to the world.

Lurid statistics are thrown to the audience as parenthetical comments, such as the number of clitoral circumsions that still take place today; the number of girls abused in childhood; the number of women raped as big boys wage their wars; the multitude of women who forget about their vaginas because it became the center of pain and/or shame at some point in their lives.

V-Day is a movement to end violence toward women. It uses the same date as Valentine's day. Celebrity performances of the Vagina Monologues in New York, San Francisco, London's Old Vic, Los Angeles and performances at hundreds of colleges across the country have raised several hundreds of thousands of dollars for groups that work to stop violence against women. To learn more about it, please visit:link

Let me tell you that I never heard of the San Francisco Mall until this visit, and I sort of tripped on it. What kind of shopping center could they fit into this ordinary looking gateway? Ah, very smart indeed; it's vertical with circular escalators and I love it already. As I make my way down the entrance, I lean over the balustrade and see the food court; mmm I'm hungry, but I don't want food court victuals. But I'll take a picture. I run into Chiasso for a few minutes and look at the latest "functional" gadgets. Cute and outrageous but definitely very SF. I see the word "Patisserie" and I let my eyes continue to wander in that direction. An elderly couple is sitting outside this cafe with enormous cups and that spells good news. I'm having lunch here.

Nordstrom's anchors this mall, and I always like to visit it for a good laugh. Everyone is so damn eager to make you part with your money. There was an exquisitely elegant saleswoman in the fragrance department (yes, I can't stay away from this stuff) and she must have been Iberian. Her hair was jet black and pulled back into a chignon; high cheek bones that rival those of Faye Dunaway and scarlet lipstick. She approached me and said to me in a heavily accented English: what can I do for you my lady? She was so unobtrusive and low pressure that I actually took the time to answer her. We talked about the cost of perfume oils and scented waters. She was still very gracious as I left empty handed.

After lunch, I walked to Powell, and I must have hit the bottom of the street, as there was a huge circle of people waiting for the trolley! I continued onto Powell and started recognizing the shops and up the street, I could see some of the hotels we had looked at the last time we were here. I went into a fragrance/souvenir shop and picked up a bottle of cologne for Chuck.

After which I was drawn to the DSW Shoe Warehouse . This place is also in New York, but it is pure whisky for an alcoholic. I spent at least 1-1/2 hours there looking at 700 pairs of shoes and sandals for women. Naturally, the greater the choice, the more indecisive I am. But I love looking and touching and examining the heel which on some is a disaster waiting to happen.

Then I see Walgreens,- did I mention that the water in San Francisco is absolutely vile? I linger there at the cosmetics, the colognes, the sale racks and I spot the water. Hurray...it's almost 4 pm, and my feet are in heavy protest. And is that Marshall's across the street from the Renaissance? In I go and browse at leisure; my daughter Michele is now 2 bras richer.

San Francisco is one of those places you never really get to know well, since it changes a little bit everytime you go back. I remember the first time I went there, I was nearing my 30th birthday. San Francisco had steely buildings, was avant garde in a multitude of ways, housed people that fought and died in their causes and occasionally served as locale for a TV series.

San Francisco, unseen, conjured up gay causes and campus unrest. Having grown up with in-your-face marketing on TV, I imagined the Rice-a-Roni cable cars everywhere, and wanted to take my very first ride on them.

As I look at the map of the world today, at 50 years old, I don't think San Francisco is as far away from New York as it used to be. California became the corner store. With natural foods, yoga classes, Thai restaurants, speed walking, sprouts in the veggie section of Waldbaums and A & P, New York had caught up somewhat with its more eccentric sister. There was finally very little to differentiate us from one another, except of course, for the geography and the fact that we still thought they were weirdos because they went home at 3pm everyday instead of 5pm or 9 pm . They were less compulsively drawn to their jobs, and what defined them as Californians. They were still free spirited but we were tight jawed. Our heads may have been clearer from all the Gingko Biloba we were inhaling, but we were still hung up about our jobs and some of us questioned our priorities, as the San Franciscans took off for parts unknown early in the weekend to find more nirvana in other ways.

I smiled as buildings and landmarks became familiar once again. Yes, they are still very laid back here in Silicon Valley; wonder what they thought about us in Silicon Alley...rude New Yorkers. Shoving and sneering as they methodically make their way through the city's arteries, so they can lock themselves up in non descript glass buildings or old mementos with elevators that don't make it to the top. What kinds of beasts were they? Without the NYSE and the NASDAQ, the world simply did not function, so something must have been right in the dark recesses of Wall Street. How did we ever think we could function without our computers?

Fast forward to 2001, July 25th. on a Delta 767 crossing the continent. It is a magnificent spectacle down there. As we approach, the Golden Gate Bridge is being teased by some clouds which hide part of its skeleton; the bay looks greenish blue and still. We are taking the long way around apparently as we go past Foster City, Fremont and now Chuck tells me we're almost in San Jose. I wouldn't know it even if I were on the ground.

That's another difference for you right there: the sheer vastness of California: 5 and 6 lane highways? Unheard of in the real world. I am certain however, that a family of 2.3 people here owns 6.9 cars. Why I am grateful to be doing 35 mph on the Long Island expressway anyday in my 88 Thunderbird LX. I don't think anyone in California would be caught dead in an 88 anything at all.

We've landed. Perfectly..nice Delta pilot.. Where else would you land and upon leaving the gate see an airport shop called Jamba Juice? It's got to be California! In contrast to the sticky NY I left, SF is sunny, breezy and a mild 68 degrees. The airport is big as one would expect and there are too many people waiting for luggage at the same carousel. Finally, we're out. Now for the car; giant buses swallow the lines for rentals and bring them yet to another terminal where the majors compete for your dollars. With the price of gas these days, they need to give these vehicles away. It's a red camaro...nice, convertible but very low to the floor. Oh who cares? There is a cumbia on the radio which throws me in Houston for just one or two seconds.

And yes, it's all coming back to me now: on the mountain side, in large white block letters, South San Francisco, the city of industry...flashes of Brisbane. Some of the signage has changed with the times. Automate or Die! shouts this billboard as we fly by on the freeway; Unysis stands along with other buildings. What was there before? Was that Cisco behind them, or some other IT company that remains after the horrible dotcom crash?

We pass Candle Stick park. Now there's a new ballpark with Pacific Bell's name on it. I'm not very good at keeping up with ball anything, never have been. The Renaissance Hotel, where we are staying, is on a strange street which we can't seem to find on any map. Do you know who the hell Cyril Magnin was? Well, he was important enough to have a street named after him, and, wouldn't you know, it's right off Market Street? Who knew? I recognize this place, and the memories are not that great, but the entrance is talking to me. I must have been here for business for corporate America. Anything more than that is a blur, and I thank my failing memory for the favor. Check in is a breeze, as there are several corporate events taking place, and oh lucky me, I'm out of the loop on this one.

The bellman informed me that this hotel is owned by a Hong Kong tycoon. So, let us be grateful to China taking back Hong Kong from the British, and therefore forcing some of their elite to invest those Hong Kong dollars in our West.

If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair....what a great song this was.