Chinatown

This morning I walked to work along a new route. My girlfriend Erin is subletting my friend Heather Rae's studio apartment in a neighborhood I would like to go ahead and nickname "The China Nob". It's two blocks from the top of Nob Hill and one block above Stockton street in Chinatown. San Francisco neighborhoods are amazing the way they morph into one another in a single block. Her block is the no man's land in between.

Last night I helped her settle into her new surroundings. I brought over a bottle of champagne after work to toast the new digs, and then we set out to explore for the evening.

It really is quite remarkable how Chinatown is shoehorned into a few square blocks between two extremely sought-after pieces of real estate: The Financial District and its gajillion dollar high rises, and Nob Hill, the historic home of the wealthiest of tycoons and their mansions.

As we walked, I recalled a story I had heard about how some political interests had made an attempt to eliminate Chinatown just after the 1906 earthquake. I was impressed to learn that the Chinese government itself had stepped in and used its leverage to preserve the neighborhood and rebuild it as a Chinese community.

As we descended a few more blocks into North Beach, we got a taste for what that area is like on a weekday evening. Living on the other side of the city in The Lower Haight neighborhood, I rarely make the trip out this far, especially on a quiet weekday, and I avoid it altogether on the weekends. In my experience, North Beach fills up on weekend evenings with drunken Bridge and Tunnelers. It gets crowded and I often find the nightspots rather obnoxious.

But I always knew North Beach to be a vibrant local community also, rich in history and colorful inhabitants. I look forward to the opportunity to sink into that a little bit.

After dinner at the always tasty (and busy) Tommaso's, we walked back up the hill to investigate a spot named Le Club. The name was so cheesy and intriguing, we just had to see what went on in there.

It turns out, it is indeed a bar/social club. Apparently it used to be a super fancy restaurant, and now, although it is still upscale, caters to a somewhat lower crust crowd with its pool table, poker/chess room, and chatty bartender. It's ok. But not the white leather 70's disco (le) chic I was hoping for.

This morning, I headed down the hill to the high rise I currently work at only ten blocks away from Erin's. It's funny how different a neighborhood feels in the morning. I've been in Chinatown on the weekends and a few choice evenings, but never in the morning. As I walked down Clay street with the Transamerica Pyramid facing me at eye level, I felt like I had moved to a completely new city. It reminded me of what it felt like when the taxi cab dropped me off my first morning in Buenos Aires last year. Everything was comfortably urban and serene, but nothing was familiar.

My same old home town, but from a new angle.