San Francisco was my next stop after the four days of Monterey.  We caravanned up Highway 1 to SFO so the other journos from the trip could catch planes back to the Mile High City.  My Monterey roomie Dana and I, however, decided that we needed MOAR, so after bidding our comrades farewell, we had our first experience with the most noble of city things, public transit.

BART in Oakland. No earthquakes occurred during the making of this image.

In this case, that meant BART.  BART is difficult to classify, both metro system and commuter rail, but it does have its distinctions.  After the Loma Prieta quake broke part of the Bay Bridge in 1989, BART’s unscathed transbay tunnel was the savior of the city, connecting the East Bay with downtown.  It’s carpeted, upholstered, and makes funny noises when braking.  Pretty swank for a public transit system.  Be warned, though, it is rather expensive.  I’m getting to that.

We boarded a train destined for the city, and I watched as the hills around SFO transformed into a landscape of houses that appeared to rise out of the valleys as if they were built on top of each other. In the seat across from us, I spied a passenger toting a Lowepro bag.  Being the photo nerd that I am, I struck up a conversation with her.  As luck would have it, Rebecca is a photo student (surprise!) at the Academy of Art in San Fran.  We talked shop, and she invited me to give her a call the next day for lunch.  After my spot of luck, she left the train, and soon after, Dana left to find his hotel.  I continued on to the place I was staying, in Richmond on the east side of the bay.  Remember that part about BART being expensive?  A ticket from SFO to the East Bay cost me $6.40 one way.  Ouch.

I made it out to Richmond and gleefully lugged my rolling duffel (I never knew I could fit so much into so small a bag) to the apartment of my friend and fellow photographer Tunnelbug, whom I had met a year previous when he came to Colorado to photograph some of our juiciest abandonments.  I then proceeded to roam about his complex for an hour looking for the wrong apartment before finding what were, indeed, my accommodations. Much rejoicing ensued, and then I grabbed camera gear and set out for my first night in the city of San Francisco.

I rang Dana, and plotted out a meetup spot.  The iconic Pier 39, where he had found a story to shoot.  My ears popped as my train accelerated under the waters of San Francisco Bay, and I emerged into the futuristic, double level Embarcadero station.  What followed next was a moment I look forward to in every new city: that moment when you emerge from the metro to breathe in the air of your new surroundings for the first time.  The smell of the city was upon me, and I set out navigating my way to the pier.  A long walk ensued, but I arrived, met up with Dana, and shot a graffiti artist doing his thang.  Dinner followed, and I bade my friend farewell and headed back out to the East Bay.

Sprayin’ and prayin’.

The next day started with the BART routine, this time to Powell station, where Becca met me.  She took me to a Japanese restaurant nearby that did a sweet $10 lunch special: miso, 4 rolls, teriyaki chicken, and a seaweed salad.  Nice.  She asked if I wouldn’t mind helping her with a shoot the next day, and I agreed, I can always use more shooting time, right?  Nay, this time I would be on the other side of the lens.  The horror!

Chinatown beckoned, so we parted ways and I headed to the original corner of the US that Chinese immigrants made their own.  I’ve been to Chicago’s Chinatown, but this was a completely different beast.  Everywhere I turned, I was surrounded by a completely different culture from the one I just left.  I saw a fish market that had tourists staring at the array of choices before them, and as I watched, a live fish jumped down from the display.  Without missing a beat, one of the employees of the shop scooped up our scaly friend and got him back on ice as the tourists marveled at the flopping fish.. The storefronts spilled out onto the sidewalks, and the smells of seafood and produce piled high in the backs of pickup trucks filled the air as I trekked north toward the waterfront.

Only the freshest ingredients.

After Chinatown, I headed toward the most well-known of San Francisco landmarks, the Golden Gate Bridge.  It was my intent to walk the length of the bridge, but time was running short, so I snapped a few pictures at sunset and began my trek back to Richmond, but not without another stop at Pier 39 for a bowl of the legendary clam chowder I had heard of.  The bread bowl is a curious thing.  Once you get down to the chowder-coated bread, you can’t figure out how to eat it without getting messy.  I’ll bet the locals often have a good chuckle at all the out-of-towners looking quizzically at their bread bowls.

Yeah, yeah, kitschy tourist shot.

The next day was a bit of an eventful one.  I had received a voicemail from home when I woke up telling me that United had called in the middle of the night to inform me that my flight to my next destination had been cancelled.  Great news!  I decided to deal with it later and head into San Francisco for my shoot.  Off to Berkeley, coffee, and BART with the Snuggl-I mean Tunnelbug.  My ears popped under the Bay for the last time this trip as we made our way into the city.  My shoot beckoned, and I met up with Becca for the short walk to the Academy’s studio from the BART station.  I gawked at the large assortment of DSLR and medium format bodies in the equipment room, and then proceeded to the studio to have my picture taken!

Photo courtesy of miss Rebecca Daniels.

During a pause in the shoot, I made contact with United, and kindly asked that they get me on another plane the same day.  They did, with less trouble than I would get from scheduling at my university, and not only that, but with the shooting I was doing with Becca, the later time of my new flight meant that I’d no longer have to rush to the airport.  The shoot concluded, and as usual, shenanigans followed.  Shenanigans with a camera, that is.

Hey Farva, what’s the name of that restaurant you like with all the goofy shit on the walls?

I bade my new friend farewell, and caught my ride to the airport.

That’s my ride.

This trip was the first time I had been to the city of San Francisco, and my experience was one of new friends and the thrill of a new city to explore.  It’s a great city, one of many, many cultures, great architecture, and good effing clam chowder.  It’s a city I intend to return to, but for now, another city beckoned to me.  The Pacific Northwest was calling, and when it calls, you answer.  So I picked up and left the city by the bay for another…by a bay.  See you next time.