US here we come

c. Barry York 2008

Here’s a photo of San Francisco Bay, from the top of Telegraph Hill (ie, the hill that has the Coit Tower). It’s among my favourite photographs taken during our US trip.

Barry

Thursday 22 May. It’s officially my birthday. One of the memorable things about this trip is that my daughter, Hannah, turned 12 in the USA – in Hollywood to be precise (1st May) – and I turned 57 (in San Francisco). But, now the time has come to prepare for our return to Canberra, Australia. Luckily, the flight departs around 11.00pm, so we have one final full day in Frisco.

Joey and Hannah both asked to be woken up early, around 8.00am, so I happily obliged. Joey has either been swimming in the outdoor heated pool or going to the hotel fitness center every day. He’s really attracted to gym activity – perhaps influenced by my stories about having worked out fanatically for a few years at a gym run by a professional wrestler in Sydney Road, Coburg, Melbourne, 30 years ago. Anyway, Joey was up at 8.00 and in the pool by 8.15!

Our final day was action-packed and included some photos at the Longshoremen’s Memorial Building, which is located near the Radisson Hotel in Beach Street. I had stumbled upon it. The building commemorates the killing by police of two longshoremen (or ‘wharfies’ as we’d say in Australia) in 1934 during a strike. I’ll post a photo as soon as I can of the painting on the pavement leading into the building, which is part of the memorial.

A regular feature of our daily routine in Frisco has been the IHop Restaurant which is conveniently situated next door to the Radisson. Part of the deal with the hotel was that we received two free full breakfasts at the IHop each morning. I already miss the place, the friendly staff, the lavish servings, the decor which reminded me of somehting out of a 1960s movie.

I’ve referred to the social problem of homelessness in a few posts and we had an experience at the IHop that is worth relating. We had our ‘last supper’ there before heading to the airport that night and, as usual, the omelettes were so huge that we couldn’t finish them all. Joan, like me, was affected by the people on street corners begging for money and she felt it was just plain wrong to toss out such good food. In Australia, we ask for a “doggie bag” to take any left-overs but in the US they say they want the left-overs “boxed”. Joan wanted to have the remaining omelette and some pancakes ‘boxed’ so we could give them to one of the homeless on the street. I have to admit that I was against the idea – it seemed condescending to me, too risky. Anyway, it allowed for a brief ethical discussion among us all, including Joey and Hannah, and finally Joan just got up with the boxed food and walked up the street to where she found a homeless guy, a black American, and, as she told us on return, she just asked him if he liked omlette, he replied “You bet I do!”, and she gave it to him. Apparently he looked at it and then said: “You’re spoiling me!”. So, Joan was certainly proven right on that one and did the right thing.

I don’t want to exaggerate the extent of homelessness but it was far too commonplace given the overall level of prosperity and standard of living for the majority of people. I even saw a bloke with no hands begging – he had iron claws from the middle of his forearm instead of lower arms and hands. I was tempted to go over and ask him how he had lost them – but, again, I didn’t. As mentioned in a previous post, in Frisco there’s a collective of homeless people and they publish and sell a newspaper. I think there’s a ray of hope in that, as at least they are empowering themsleves, albeit under bad circumstances, and they are not being ‘imprisoned’ by the welfare system.

Also along Beach Street is a fascinating, though slightly worrying, shop called “The Spy Shop”. You’ve guessed it: it sells spy-related stuff. Everything from stun guns to secret miniature cameras. Oh yes, and knives of all shapes and sizes. And sun glasses with little mirrors in them for being able to see behind you. Fortunately, it was the sun-glasses that captured Joey and Hannah’s imagination and fell within budget.

We went again into Union Square and, while walking the streets, came across the Museum of African Heritage. It was a worthwhile experience and I recommend it to any visitor to Frisco. As I have a background as a historian, I was very interested in the way the museum had organised a ‘listening room’ – a long rectangular darkly lit room – designed to focus the mind of those within it on sound. The only furniture in the room is a long bench around the walls. It works remarkably well and the sound recordings of actors reading the transcripts of the interviews made by the Library of Congress in the 1930s with former slaves was a powerful experience.

We also decided that day to walk to the Coit Tower, the highest monument overlooking the bay and a very popular tourist attraction; though the great majority have the sense to get there by cable car. (It has featured in many movies, including Hitchcock’s ‘Vertigo’). It was uphill all the way but worth the effort. Inside the tower there are many murals painted by unemployed artists who were given work under the ‘New Deal’ in the 1930s. Most of the murals celebrate labour and the workers as the real producers and creators of industry and economic growth. (Am I the only one to wonder why we still think we need a capitalist class to own the means of production for us?!)

Our last day was a very good one and, around 8.30pm, we caught a taxi that just happened to be driving by the hotel. Joan was a bit worried, as it was a very flash looking black car, with no taxi sign displayed on it. A tall, tough looking, black guy, with a couple of scars on his face, was driving and called out to us that he’d take us to the airport for $45, which we knew was the going rate. While I was loading the luggage into the car’s boot, Joan went into the hotel to ask the receptionist whether it was safe to use that ‘taxi’. Anyway, they said it was okay and, as it turned out, it was a terrific way to bid au revoir to San Francisco. The driver was a wonderful character, keen to talk (unlike most of the drivers we encountered), and a man of great eloquence and humor – not to mention the classical black American rhythmic/poetic manner of speech. He had it all. Like nearly everyone else we met, on explaining that we were from Australia, he immediately referred to Crocodile Dundee and the ‘shrimp’ (prawn) on the barbie. I jokingly replied: “You call that a knife”. To which he responded: “This is a knife!” The film was so popular in the US that I was able to use that line with locals on three or four occasions.

At the San Francisco International Airport, we sat down at a coffee shop – I had my last US iced tea with lemon – and Joan made a video of each of us, commenting on the trip.

To me, it all seemed surreal. It seemed a long time ago that we had boarded the plane in Canberra, for Sydney, for LA. And indeed it had been nearly a month. Yet it also seemed to go so quickly.

On the 13 hour flight to Sydney, Joey slept for about nine hours, Hannah for about eight hours, Joan for a few hours, and I probably had about two hours sleep at most.

If readers will indulge me, please, I’d like to do another post or two over the next couple of days.

Barry

Wednesday 21st May - another bright blue warm day, though chilly in the morning and after nightfall. We did some shopping in the little tourist-oriented shops by the wharves. Prices are very cheap compared to Australia. I bought a wind-jacket ... [Continue reading this entry]