I went to San Francisco with high hopes of seeing some middle-aged hippies, relics of the ’60s and ’70s, still clinging onto their make-love-not-war-flower-people ideals. Instead I encountered SF, as the commercial tourist mecca of the West coast, far removed from the anti-commercial, anti-property hippie era. Back in the day, my mother as a hippie-wannabee, used to aspire to own no furniture and sleeping on the floor was the ultimate.
There is so much to see in SF and tried to see it all: the golden gate bridge, fisherman’s wharf, twin peaks, the mission, Castro-area, china town, Ghiradelli square, Lombard street (the crookedest street in the world), golden gate park, the “painted Victorian ladies”, Sausalito and the infamous Alcatraz (aka “the rock”). Highlights were walking in the Muir Woods forest, home to some of the West coast’s big red woods, and wine tasting in Napa and Sonoma valleys. SF is a beautiful city and I can see why it’s called the Cape Town of the U.S. However, my “affair” with SF was short-lived, and it just couldn’t compare to Cape Town, the true love of my life, infinitely more beautiful and magical than SF.