Crooked and convoluted streets, cable car rides and the fog-shrouded bridge – things I’ve seen in many a Hollywood movie…Finally I’ve seen them all myself.
Ten O’clock seemed to be early morning in San Francisco on Friday. The kids from the University were zipping through the streets on skates. There was hardly anyone to obstruct them on the sidewalk. I stepped into “Borders”. The assistant was amused that I was looking for the DVD of “Once Upon A Time in America”. He’d never heard of it. After searching for it, his eyes lit up. “Wow! This seems to be good! How do you keep track of these old movies?” he beamed. I was out of luck. The DVD was out of sale. “Twilight” was all over the store. Of course, it was Halloween weekend and what better way to market it than by using a teenage vampire love story that had just taken the world by storm? “Are you gonna watch the second movie?” asked the assistant, referring to ‘New Moon’, the second installment in the series that would hit theatres in November. “Maybe…” I confessed.
The noisy and conspicuous ramp to the Bay Bridge, that had caught my attention on Sunday, had fallen silent since the past two days. The Bay Bridge was now closed, after a cable had snapped two days back. High speed winds had slowed down the repair work, so the reports said. All over San Francisco, I could spot signs proclaiming the Bay Bridge closure that day. I walked along 3rd street, headed for Union Square. A large group of art students dressed as witches walked out of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. It made me realize that this was perhaps the first trip in a long time during which I hadn’t visited a museum. My colleagues might be pleased.
Market Street was buzzing with activity. Automobiles zipped past, the historic streetcars clanged along, and people were running helter-skelter. In the far distance, the clock tower of the Ferry Building rose up. I debated whether to head for Pier 39 and try my chance at a trip to Alcatraz. After about 10 minutes of thought, I headed straight ahead to Union Square.
A 100-odd feet column with the goddess of victory on top, rises up from the middle of the square. Under Union Square sits a huge parking garage. It was the world’s first underground parking lot. The huge buildings of Neiman Marcus and Macy’s tower over the square; their interiors lit by a bright array of dazzling lights. The huge Westin St Francis and the Sir Francis Drake Hotels flank her on two sides. And on the steps leading up to the victory monument, sat a smiling young lady with a life-size doll of Chucky. The spirit of Halloween was everywhere.
Crossing to the opposite side of the square, I saw Powell Street rising up steeply into the distance. Descending it was the famous San Francisco Cable Car. A cursory glance behind told me that another car was approaching from the opposite end. Without much thought, I jumped in. The interior was crowded. “Would you like to go and stand there?” The conductor asked me, pointing to the footboard on the side. “Yes”, I replied. He stopped the car so that I could get down and walk over. We went up the hill and down it, with me and a few others, hanging from the railings. It was like foot-boarding a bus back in India, but a hundred times less dangerous. The only danger perhpas was bmping into someone who was leaning out of the car coming from the opposite side. These things were made to be foot-boarded, and it was exhilarating, to watch us going down the hill – road just going on and on, finally onto the San Francisco bay on the horizon.
The ride ended at Fisherman’s Wharf. A few feet away from the Wharf is Lombard Street with the stretch between Hyde and Leavenworth Street vying for the honour of being the most crooked street in the world, with eight turns. Tourists were busy driving through (thankfully they don’t allow tour buses onto the street). I caught a cable car back to Union Square and headed North-East along Market Street. The beautiful Golden Gate Theatre adorned the right sidewalk of the block. The walls of golden gate avenue were adorned with beautiful murals. I turned on to McAllister and Fulton, behind the massive dome of the enormous City Hall. In spite of its beauty, the structure somehow failed to impress me. It looked like a cheap copy of many a European building. As I started climbing up, the neighborhood changed. Beautiful two-storied Victorian houses with large windows dotted the street sides. This place was perhaps more richer. At the end of the street stood Alamo Square, and facing it with the whole city visible behind them, were the Victorian sisters. I sat there on the grass, looking down at them and the city down below. I was exhausted.
I caught the wrong train from San Francisco – I got into an express train, which meant that I had to get down at Sunnyvale. Pranav had promised to pick me up. “You roam around a bit in Sunnyvale downtown. I’ll pick you up in half an hour”, he informed. But I, started walking…back towards the hotel. And for an hour, I just kept on, probably as an endurance exercise. It was a bad idea. For, by the time he picked me up, I was badly tired.
A 12-hour walk on the day before you undertake a 24-hour flight is perhaps not a good idea. I was sick through the night and on the morrow at the airport. My legs were heavy, and the body ached badly. No sooner had I sat down at my window seat, than I fell asleep. I had many a short nap, before I realized that the aircraft had started taxiing. I sat up, looking out. South San Francisco sped by below us, the box-like structures laid out as it they were children’s building block. The signature skyline of San Francisco was visible to the right. The fog had come in from the ocean and had now engulfed the spans of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was my last glimpse of the American mainland.
No comments:
Post a Comment