I sat in the warm sunshine on a gorgeous August day in the Panhandle park (next to Golden Gate), with a giggly group of quirky, smart, delightful folks I’d lived with, danced with, dated, hugged, high-fived, ate with and thoroughly enjoyed. And I was saying goodbye.
|Coast Camp at Point Reyes|
Yes, my time in this marvelous place has ended in a messy (in a good way), sweaty, delicious way, with costumes, colour and laughter, just as it should. I got to culminate my last few weeks with a last-minute visit from my giving, warm and wonderful super close friend Andrea (all the way from Toronto!). We walked the hills, marched to the Mission and indulged in pirates, art and burritos (which caused her to request, a short time after, that we find some green space and pass out for about five minutes. Which we did and were joined a few tables down by a man with a large shopping cart of bottles who also felt 3pm is a good time to take a nap in the park), had a 26-hour ill-prepared but wonderful camping trip to Point Reyes, where in the morning, we frolicked in the cold waves and strolled the beach which had been touched only by the cloven hoofs of deer.
She finished her visit in style, when we went out dancing at Soul Night at the fun Elbo Room, where we were joined by my roommates, all in some form of costume. We danced and sweated till near collapse, then wandered home, passing the dollhouse victorian houses and denuded magnolia trees, through the cool summer fog.
|Crisp and crackling - thanks Tartine|
Franticly packing my things while my roommates prepared themselves for Burning Man, I squeezed in several wonderful visits complete with an obscene amount of good food. Buttery, shattering croissant, mac and cheese in Oakland followed by a tiny concert in an independent clothing shop in Oakland, and a stunning four-course vegan dinner at Millenium, one of the finest restaurants in San Francisco.
|Mac'n'Cheese as far as the eye can see!|
And so I struck the path that so many have done, calling the city home then taking leave of it. See, San Francisco’s a place of transition, and also of joy. The city was smiling but unmoved by my departure, while I felt a little piece of my heart remained, bouncing up and down the hills, splashing in the ocean, ordering a burrito and dancing all night, fueled on Speakeasy Prohibition Ale and Anchor Steam.
|The Canadian train across Canada|