As I Take My Time and Realign

When we left our SF apartment, it was empty. But even with just the white walls and wood floors, it still felt like home.

As we drove across the Bay Bridge, Mr. WholeHog asked me what my favorite memories were of our Castro apartment, and I thought about the day we moved in.

I’d felt almost embarrassed because our apartment seemed too nice for a couple’s first place together. Weren’t we supposed to be crammed into a basement apartment with no windows? Instead, we had a flat with tall, coved ceilings, wainscoating lined halls, a pantry off the kitchen, and a sweet little deck with a view of downtown San Francisco. (Of course, we didn’t know then that the place would also come with so much drama. We didn’t know that we’d be woken up by violent arguments above us, or amorous efforts below us.)

Thinking about when we moved into the Castro together made me feel a little badly for our new East Bay home. It has its charms, of course, but moving in, I didn’t feel any of the anticipation or excitement I felt three years ago. This time, I mostly just felt sad about all we were leaving behind.

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It’s too early to say much about this move. I try not to say much about it at all. I still feel deeply in transition and transitions are difficult for me, as they are for most of us, I suppose.

I’m a creature of habit and in the East Bay, I have no habits. I don’t know the streets or the neighborhoods. I don’t have any favorite places. None of the things that in San Francisco gave me a sense of having a life or a sense of permanence.

I asked my cousin how she adapted to life outside the City, and she said she focused on waking up and hearing birds rather than hearing MUNI. When I wake up in the East Bay, I hear almost nothing. And this feels like an appropriate metaphor for how it feels so far to live outside San Francisco: it’s a big blank right now.

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Moving across the Bay has forced me to be a little more present in my daily life, if you’ll forgive the New Age-y sentiment. I could practically sleep walk from our Castro apartment to MUNI, but now I have to pay attention when I leave the house. Even at home, I’m not on autopilot. I have to think about where we put things when we unpacked or if that box ever got unpacked at all.

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On my commute into the City on BART, some of the riders sleep, but I stare out the windows. The views are still unfamiliar to me. I’m sure it will bore me eventually but right now, it makes me happy to see the graffiti on the side of a building that said “IRA GLASS!”.

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In the weeks before we moved, Mr. WholeHog often mentioned living in the Inner Sunset again. Finally, I said, “If you really think we are going to prefer living in the Inner Sunset, why are we moving across the Bay?”

“Because it’s an adventure,” he said.

I try to keep that in mind.

Starting Now The Wait Is Over

My sister says that one of the differences she notices between NYC and SF is that SF residents wear their political affiliations on their sleeve.

And on the Left Coast, it’s clear that there is great joy and relief that we are at long last putting these past eight years behind us. In my old SF neighborhood,  homes and businesses are showing their enthusiasm for Inauguration Day.

This house was a block from our old apartment:

Two blocks away at Castro Village Wine:

It’s Where I’m At, Where I Live(d)

The Castro hasn’t been Mr. WholeHog and I’s ideal place in the City. It has almost no decent restaurants (Anchor Oyster Bar is the sole exception). We aren’t into its popular bar scene and our neighbors… well, let’s just say they left much to be desired.

But now that we’re leaving the Castro, nostalgia has set in and I’m starting to feel lucky to have lived in the Castro for these last 3 1/2 years.

We lived here in this beautiful neighborhood, nestled between Noe and Eureka Valleys, full of stately homes and stellar views.  Just circling the block looking for parking, we can see the Castro Theater’s neon sign or the delicate lights of Bay Bridge.

Even though our apartment hasn’t been the quiet refuge we’d hoped, the Castro has so many places to escape to.  Kite Hill offers a breath-taking view of the entire City. Dolores Park is in walking distance and provides a welcome excuse to walk along lovely Liberty Street and take one of the many stairways over Liberty Hill.

We could head out in almost any direction and find one of SF’’s charming stairways on Liberty or Cumberland, on 20th St at Noe or 20th St at Douglass. My favorite steps in the area are across Market Street connecting Ord and Saturn Streets.

The View from the Liberty Street Steps

Castro Street is in many ways the heart of the City. If something momentous happens, people congregate here to celebrate or protest. I knew Obama had won the election from the sound of the cheers out on the street, not from the TV this year. The street was flooded with people celebrating (and anxiously awaiting Prop 8 results).

We were here to see Castro Street transformed back to its 1970s style for the filming of Milk just this last year and even participated as extras. We got to see movie stars on Castro Street for the movie’s premiere. (Much to Mr. WholeHog’s chagrin, I waited with the masses of people on the sidewalk across from the theater for a glimpse of Sean Penn.)

Milk Premiere

We were here when Noir City (finally!) came back to the Castro Theater. The festival won’t be as convenient for us this year, but we’ll still go to see those campy movies in what I have to believe is one of the best theaters in the whole world. This year, we’ll just have a longer trip home.

I don’t consider myself a prude, but living in the Castro was eye-opening. I saw things that I never imagined in my time here. With Walgreens, Pottery Barn and Starbucks, the Castro is becoming more like a mall, but the sex shops keep it solidly out of the mainstream, with t-shirts that say “Anal Sex is for Assholes” and “If You’re Happy and You Know It Suck My Dick”.

The holidays are different in Castro. For Christmas one year, a store decorated a tree with a string of disturbingly-large anal beads (more like anal golf balls, if you ask me). The picture below is a Valentine’s Day display, and the particularly massive dildo (upper left) sports a sticker the says, “Suck it Jesus”.

We were here amid all of this: the sex toys and the stairway walks, the celebrations and the protests, the movies that were shown in the theater and those that were filmed on the streets.

Whether it was the right place for us or not doesn’t really matter at this point, it was our place from May 2005 through this week.

Another Vision of Us

Mr. WholeHog and I finally found the sort of place we’d been looking for: a house to rent, where we won’t be woken early in the morning by the neighbors above us or kept up late by the person living below us; a place that welcomes dogs –  real dogs, not the dog-like “under 25 lbs.” animals; a home with some neat architectural details (and, of course, like so many rentals, it also comes with some deeply random touches that only a landlord could love).

Because it is within walking distance to a vibrant neighborhood and reliable public transportation, it allows us to continue living a mostly car-less life.

But there’s one problem and it’s a doozy: it isn’t in San Francisco.

2009 marks my 10th year in S.F. and I’m not ready to leave yet. It was Mr. WholeHog and I’s first home, and the first time that I’m choosing to move out of a place I really love.

Everywhere I look, I see things that I’ll miss.  On a recent walk through Dolores Park, I tried to ask Mr. WholeHog if we’d still come here on warm days and picnic in the park, but my voice broke. I was relieved to be in sunglasses so the hipsters couldn’t watch me try to hold back tears.

I got choked up again this weekend at Arizmendi Bakery, our old neighborhood haunt, when Howard greeted us with a cheery, “Hello friends!”. We met Howard simply because we showed up at Arizmendi nearly every day when we lived in the Inner Sunset. He is one of many people and places that make me feel like part of a community here.

I know I’m overreacting. We’re only moving across the bay, a short 22 minute train ride from the City. We’ll be coming into the City for work during the week, going to our same yoga class and to our farmers market on Saturdays. (We refuse to give up our Primavera breakfasts!). But it still feels like a loss to me, even if it is only a loss of convenience.

As much as I don’t want to leave, this move feels necessary. We’ve looked for dog-friendly apartments in S.F. for years, we’ve long craved a little more space from neighbors and hoped for an outdoor space where no one would dump the grease from their BBQ down on our plants. But in S.F., the trade off was often lack of a neighborhood or a longer commute.

And we can always come back. This move is a trial run, a year to give another city a try. A year from now, maybe this blog will be focused on all that I love about the East Bay or maybe we’ll be ready to move again and more willing to accept the City’s trade offs.

No matter what, San Francisco will always be Mr. WholeHog and I’s first home, and now, the East Bay will be where we lived in our first house, together.

Police Blotters – December 2008

The December police blotters show that in this foothill town, tis the season for paranoia. A snow storm midway through the month also sent people calling the police, assuming the snow was an intruder.

• 6:30 p.m. — A caller reported a “suspicious letter” on the floor. The letter was found to be mail that had been dropped by an employee.
• 10:41 a.m. — A caller from a business reported a BB hole in the window. The hole turned out to be a smudge on the window.
• 11:25 a.m. — A Salvation Army bell ringer reported being verbally accosted. The bell ringer said the person acted as if he was going to punch him in the stomach and said he wanted to “ring his (expletive) neck.”
• 10:31 a.m. — A caller reported three “suspicious” men. An officer found they were construction workers.
• 2 a.m. — A woman reported hearing a “low” sound possibly coming from the ground that she hears only at night. She said an officer would have to come out and turn the car engine off and “calm down” to hear the noise, which she described as being similar to an earthquake sound. Officers were unable to hear the noise.
• 9:37 a.m. — A caller reported a customer bought a breakfast burrito, ate half of it and then wanted his money back. He then threw it on the floor. [Um, Dad? Is this you?]
• 10:50 p.m. — A caller reported someone was playing with a baton on fire. The person agreed to extinguish the baton and go inside for the night.
• 1:01 p.m. — A caller from the recycling center reported a white man stealing recyclables. The description of the suspect matched the manager of the center.
• 2:15 a.m. — A man from a business reported a tenant heard a possible gunshot. The noise turned out to be a soda can that had exploded in the freezer.
• 2:28 a.m. — A male and female who had been drinking at their home were injured during a fight and both were arrested and booked at the county jail on suspicion of battering a spouse or cohabitant. The man said the woman tried to stab him in the head with a screwdriver. The female hurt her face from a fall during the ruckus.
• - 2:30 p.m. — A woman reported someone broke into her house and stole her novel.
• - 9:30 p.m. — A woman reported her aunt would not leave the home. She said the aunt is accusing her of elder abuse and “poking her.”
• 10:49 p.m. — A caller reported hearing what sounded like someone on the roof for an hour. It was found to be snow falling on the roof.
• 3:04 a.m. — A caller reported someone was trying to break into the building. The noise was snow falling off the roof.
• 9:39 p.m. — A caller reported someone was playing bongos.
• 10:11 p.m. — A woman from a business reported “skin tight” gang members were possibly going to be in a fight in the area. The same woman called at 12:51 a.m. Sunday to report lights were out at Taco Bell. She said there was going to be a fight.
• 5:05 a.m. — A caller said that their son was sleepwalking and was trying to break down a door, and that he was foaming at the mouth.
• 11:18 p.m. — A woman reported her neighbor threatened to do “horrible things” if she didn’t turn off the lullaby music she was playing for her baby.
• 2:22 p.m. — A caller reported someone had been going door to door and leaving threatening sticky notes on everyone’s garages.