city Keyword
San Francisco
It is strange to think that San Francisco had a population of only 1,000 people when the gold rush hit. The search for riches caused the number of residents of the bay to swell quickly to 25,000 in just one year. It must have been a crazy time, how ever San Fran’s history stretches as far back as 3000BC when local Cali Indians once called the area home before being displaced in the 1700′s by the Spanish. Now home to around 800,000 in the metro and 8,000,000 in the surrounding ‘burbs San Fran is a buzzing city.
The entire metropolis is quite beautiful and new, mainly due to the great fire of 1906. Over four hundred thousand San Franciscan’s were left homeless after an earthquake levelled buildings and ruptured gas lines causing massive devastation. Today the town is full of life and history. Its famous trams rumble through the city and the streets are teaming with tourists. Along the port restaurants and museums line the piers. Out to the west in the suburbs is Haight Ashbury, a very alternative neighbourhood with a cool scene. Grungy, dirty bars and music stores run up and down the main street and bums and hippies sit on side walks calling for donations towards cannabis research.
On Sunday Chinatown hosted a party, filling the streets with parades, food and music. The Chinatown in San Francisco is one of the oldest in the entire USA and it is huge, but difficult to find nice cheaps eat’s in. A few bars are scattered through the streets of Chinatown, and around the city in general but the best I found was The Utah. It sits on the corner of 4th and Bryant and is a great venue with music almost every night and an awesome vibe. The locals are friendly and the bar staff fun and tough.
In the evenings the fog that during the day contains itself to the bay creeps into the city turning it into a frigid yet beautiful place. It wafts into the streets and blows a cooling breath over the entire metropolis. It is so thick you can feel it dusting your face with a light mist.
I got to catch up with a couple of mates in San Francisco. Jenn, who kindly put me up for a few nights and Emmett who took me around the city on Monday and to Fishermans wharf in the evening. I had a great time here and I’ll be back for one last drink before flying to Hawaii in about a week. But right now I am due to catch a flight to Vegas.
Seattle
People look at me strange sometimes when I say I love the states, but damn it: it’s true. I have had nothing but good experiences here. The people are lovely, and everyone that I have met from the states, save a few obnoxious hangover exacerbating types, have been great, honest, confident and friendly. So it was nice to step off the boat from Victoria to be greeted by Seattle on a warm October afternoon.
Seattle, home of Grunge music, dot com darlings Amazon, Boeing and other cool businesses, is a beautiful city. Teeming with life and coffee shops the city stretches out from the west coast, up and over it’s many hills. I am staying in Capital Hill, a pretty cool district with some interesting characters and great nightlife.
I haven’t done all that much exploring as yet, haven’t even checked out the Space Needle, but I plan to remedy this after Penny Arcade Expo is all done. I did get a moment to wander around downtown though, where I met some locals in a bar who graciously offered to take me bar hopping around the town. As it was midday this was great as I got to see and take note of some cool bars to check out later. I also had a bit of a gander at the famous Pike Place Markets, but I wasn’t in the mood to deal with crowds so I just stuck my head in for a bit of a sticky beak.
I got to go to “The Central” on my impromptu little tour. This bar is pretty famous for having rock 365 nights of the year and has played host to some of the greatest bands ever when they were just starting out. They also have some pretty awesome graffiti in the toilets. “The New Orleans” on the other hand had the creepiest graffiti in theirs, with thousands of little faces staring you down while trying to do a slash. Damn weird.
I am liking Seattle. I can’t wait to see more of the town.
Paris but not…
Montreal is a weird little place. Well, little isn’t really the right word. The city is the jewel in French Canadia’s Crown. With a population of around 1.6 million in the city and 3.6 in the ‘burbs Montreal is the second largest French speaking city in the world. It feels Metropolitan. Walking around the Latin Quarter, visiting the many bars and restaurants along St. Denis reminds me of Paris. In fact the vibe of the City is very much Paris, while still having enough of its own character to set itself apart from its big sister.
While in Montreal I have walked Mont Royale in the pouring rain, been out to a few bars and restaurants, played Scrabble with new friends in my very, very awesome hostel, rode the very cool Bixi bikes all over town and checked out the Biodome. I saw live music in pubs and clubs, and enjoyed the Franco Folies Festival with some friends from Toronto.
In a strange mental snap I spent a day looking for 3/4 length cargo pants in downtown Montreal. Finding this one article of clothing has become a bit of an obsession for me. My search has become a crazed compulsion, leading me into every store I can find to search rows and rows of clothes for shorts that aren’t quite pants and pants that aren’t quite shorts. How hard can they be to find really? Very hard evidently. I need to find a Kathmandu or Patagonia or some other camping goods store, something that seems pretty much non existent here. Maybe in Vancouver. Damn you 3/4 length cargos, release me from this strange neurosis.
I’ve had an awesome time in Montreal. It has been much friendlier and more interesting than Toronto. I will be back here again in about a week to catch my flight to Vancouver so I think I’ll be visiting the Blues Bar again, just for some quiet drinks and some live music. Great stuff.
I Heart NY
Sitting on my AMTrack train at Penn Station at 7.15 in the morning I felt an immense sense of melancholy as my mind rolled through the events of the last 8 days in New York. The city has seduced me, taken my soul while I was off guard and sliced off a piece. With each blast of the train’s horn it seemed to spread that piece over the state, echoing between the buildings, down alleys, through the subway, bars, restaurants and parks. I feel like I have left something important in New York and I need to go back and find it. A yearning, like that for a lost love boils in my chest. I can still hear that horn, signaling not only my departure from the city but my arrival.
One part of me wants to recount every beautiful and amazing waking moment that I spent in New York. Wants to share my experience and shake any one willing to listen until they open their eyes and see what I have seen. But then I think that doing so will dilute this warm elixir of NYC I have bottled in me. It is mine and I am not willing to share it. It feels selfish. I guess it is something you’ll just have to experience for yourself.
Prague
Being sick while traveling is never fun. It gets in the way of everything, and when you’re on a relatively tight schedule it can stuff with a lot of plans. I got sick in Prague which was unfortunate as I really wanted explore the city. I could have stayed in bed, nursing a throbbing headache, aching muscles and running nose, or I could fight it. Through a constant haze of the flu, I did force myself out into the streets to see the capital of the Czech Republic.
Prague is an unusual place. It oozes beauty. Every building is stunning. The winding, cobbled streets scream to be explored. You can practically taste the history of the place, but it doesn’t smack you over the head with it like some other cities. Prague is subtle, gentle and gorgeous.
Wandering the streets of the city are the Czech people. A race stuck in the eighties. I am not sure if it is by choice or if they just got forgotten when the universe was handing out the “please remove the mullet and stone wash jeans” memorandum. Eighties music pumps in every venue and pastels, pinks and fluoro are worn without humor or irony. Decor, signage, advertising are all throw backs to a time when perms were fabulous and greed was good.
At night the city transforms. Glittering lamp lights chase the creeping dark into corners and down streets. A warm blanket of tungsten covers the city. All sense of time disappears as the city heaves with people strolling the cobblestones and enjoying the evening at terraces and bars.
I heart Prague. The small taste I got has left me hungry for more.