Suggested Song: San Francisco, Scott McKenzie
Suggested Drink: Chinese Mai Tai at the Li Po Lounge (Dark and light rum, pineapple juice, and a mysterious “Chinese liquor”).
I’ve been delinquent in getting a new essay out since arriving in San Francisco. A change in amoureux messes with one’s creative rhythms, and while an urban divorce with visitation rights had been my plan, I’m quickly accepting the flaws in my thinking. What’s Plan B?
I am vexed by 2 lovers. When in San Francisco I long for the warm embrace of Aix-en-Provence. When in Aix I miss the urban energy of San Francisco. Both are real seducers but distinct encounters. One is a bustling ball of creative kinks and diversity, the other a charming postcard of Provençal splendor. One, an impatient center of bleeding edge what’s next and its innovators, the other a revered destination for the good life now and its disciples. If San Francisco is a stalking tigress in black leather, Aix is a demure gazelle in white linen.
Their distinctions can be contrasted as much as anything through food. San Francisco is the definition of culinary range. The Inner Sunset (my current squat) offers menus of French, Singaporean, Korean, Chinese, Japanese, Eritrean, Italian, Mexican, El Salvadorian, Persian, Moroccan, Greek, and other cuisines packed around the buzzing 9th and Irving core. Banh mi, pho, glass noodles, kitfo, street tacos, sushi, ceviche, pizza, … what’s for dinner tonight? This neighorhood puts my tastebuds in hyperdrive.
Aix is a totem of French exceptionalism. The small Mediterranean city has over 40 boulangeries, most packed into the dense centre-ville. Some, such as Farinoman Fou or Hat’s, are considered among the best in France. The daily open air markets overflow with local Provence produce and flowers, honey and lavender. The rich sights and sounds and smells consume the senses. Okay, I surrender, give me a few of those. Yes, you can find flaky croissants and bustling farmers markets in San Francisco. No, as anyone from France will tell you, n’est pas pareil (just not the same.)
I have come to realise that neither affair will ever satisfy completely. A clean Provence break is not possible, nor is resisting San Francisco. The only solution is an open metromarriage, a polyurban arrangement, and that challenge is giving me purpose. Stay tuned.
An aside on big moves: the merits of patience and acceptance
With any audacious endeavor comes challenge, and this move-my-life-back-to-SF adventure has had its hiccups. I’m honing 2 virtues to cope: patience and acceptance. With a bit of effort we eventually get mostly what we need, and when we don’t, … well we can learn to roll with it.
My master plan for reentry went something like this: get reacquainted with the city (it’s been 15 years), optimize on a neighborhood, close on an apartment, fill it with stuff, find your groove.
It turns out I’ve landed into one of the tightest and most expensive housing markets in the country. (That whole doom loop thing? Yeah, that was so post Covid. Try to keep up.) Complicating matters, unlike the nouveau riche swarm of AI techies I don’t have a regular salary 3x the exorbitant rents (medium monthly for a 1 bedroom is now $3,670 as of this writing), and my US credit history is a blank page, having been in France for almost 2 decades.
I am getting to know San Francisco again, visiting old haunts like Mario’s Bohemian and the Tadich Grill, and finding new favorites, like Chez Maman in Hayes Valley (soon to be my permanent quartier). The neighborhoods I had optimized on have become p.r.i.c.e.y (!) and the spacious Victorian flat I imagined, … suffice it to say that expectations have been recalibrated. This took a lot of unit visits to appreciate (patience) and humility to absorb (acceptance). All good.
So, I have found my new neighborhood and home, a downtown high-rise apartment along bustling Market Street. Not the charming urban village I had imagined when starting this journey, but we have to be flexible; another virtue that has come in handy. Now the fun part: finding that new groove of favored cafes, restaurants, bars, parks, strolls, and flirtations that will color my days and evenings. The tender touch of Aix has spoiled me damnit. Onward!
Bill Magill
San Francisco
BILL MAGILL 