The Golden Gate park in San Francisco is a beautiful, rolling piece of greenery almost solely enjoyed by the City's Chinese population. As we ran through it, we saw groups of elderly Tai Chi activists, and almost every couple walking through were Chinese.San Francisco was a tiny place up until the mid-1800's, when gold was struck. The Gold Rush enticed Asian immigrants and 150,000 Chinese people made their home in the Bay area. No surprise, then, to find a strong asian, as well as a strong Hispanic influence on the city. In the area we stayed, the Mission district, almost everywhere had signs either in Spanish and English – or in Spanish only, the predominant language heard on the street. A big contrast to the Irish, Italian and Jewish (and everything else) influences on New York.
We took a trip to Bolinas Bay in the afternoon, 40 miles over the Golden Gate Bridge. Lonely Planet describes it as a “home to writers, musicians and fisherfolk and is deliberately hard to find”, because the locals take down the road-sign directing you to
the town every time the authorities put one up. Totally understandable. The village is a real throwback to a time when town life was about being connected with your neighbours and not much else. There's the small Coastal Café (with the slogan “Think Global, Eat Local”) and a
store selling almost everything, a surf shop and a book shop. We walked out to the sea and drenched ourselves in the afternoon light, watching the surfers, dogs and the odd seal enjoying the long beach at the bay.In the evening we headed to the centre of San Francisco and sought out a dive bar where they play Blues music. Last time I was there, a guy called Johnny Nitro had played – great name for a musician and his band lived up to it as the female saxophonist in her mid-40's played while standing on the bar. This time it was rather more sedate as the band was just too Blues to be true. A lead singer with a walking stick and a bad limp. A lead guitarist who was blind. A bass player who looked like a conservative politician on his night off. And a drummer who looked, well.... cool. Their music was fantastic.
Back at Bolinas near the surfer's car-park, there was a long wall edging the beach with paintings and graffiti, and a section was dedicated to poetry. The one below sums it up.
