In the afternoons, San Francisco is like any other big city. Crowds of suburbanites pounding the pavement, moving their bodies back and forth between places of work, dining establishments, and home.
In the morning... San Francisco is special.
In the mornings there is a taste and feel to the air, both crisp and with a hint of moisture. Yesterday morning on the edge of Chinatown I walked down Kearny Street toward Market, past old Chinese women on their way to work at a local shop, past the smiling hobos just waking up, past traders rushing to get in before the New York open... it's hard not to fall in love with this place. Here the smells of the city do not sour overnight, they ferment.
I never miss San Francisco when I am away, but when I am back I always wonder why.
Note: The Ton Yong Thai Cafe at 901 Kearny Street is a great place for takeout and a late night escape from drug-addled prostitutes in pickup trucks. As I stand on a street corner outside a non-descript Hilton at 11pm these ladies remind me of a favourite quote from the heroine in the novel Kushiel's Dart, "When Love cast me out, it was Cruelty who took pity upon me."
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