San Francisco romance - mexican restaurant palm canyon where dish used to be

This is a long gray summer in San Francisco.
Whenever you leave town, you are always surprised to find that the sun is hot outside the thick fog curtain that surrounds the world around you.
You want to know why you live here in February, and the rest of the world is in August, why you have to pay the price to say that you are from San Francisco.
Sometimes you feel like your relationship with the city has turned into a bad marriage.
It was so wonderful at first, so hopeful.
15 years ago, you chose San Francisco on a whim, because it is a city full of whimsical people.
After graduating from college, you 've been traveling for a year, and when your money runs out, you know you have to land in a place near a real city.
You're attracted to the incredible terrain of San Francisco.
The charm of the world and its history of tolerance for all sorts of maladjustment.
You think this is a place where you can settle down and still feel like traveling
Familiar streets, always surprised.
So you see someone else's big Buick Riviera on the west side all the way, and when you finally see the Golden Gate Bridge, you have a dizzy sense of surprise that you have found what you want
You finally got home.
The first stage of romance ends with a series of small disappointment-
Bad public transport, crazy roommates, high rent, low pay, impossible parking.
Your feelings for the city have become more complex, but your struggles have made you more loyal. Every once in a while-
Take a walk in the Botanical Garden of Golden Gate Park, where roses and poppies spread like ordinary grass to watch a cycling parade ---
You will be surprised again by the city.
You remember the day after the 1989 earthquake, a warm blue day, everything in the city was closed, but it was beautiful.
Everyone is walking outside and happy to be alive in such a brilliant, sometimes scary city.
City worth all risks.
But in the past few years, you have seen changes in the city.
Facing Silicon Valley entrepreneurs and Lexus
Push artists, dreamers and immigrants to a tighter and tighter corner.
You married a delightful man who loves to explore the city as much as you do, and you also see his changes, from a sloppy public defense lawyer, following the death of gratitude, to become a well-paid lawyer, he filed a lawsuit against Italy and had a drink --
The Scotch Malt cheated his wife.
The city you are familiar with is no longer sparkling.
Everything became dull after the divorce.
Romantic love leaves San Francisco in a way that disappears from your face.
You become invisible on the street and only see broken and dirty sidewalks.
Go outside your Haite.
Ashbury apartments, you see more and more homeless people sleeping under cardboard every day, using their dirty bags as pillows.
You try to avoid them, but they become more primitive every year.
Now, you sometimes wonder if it would be better to leave.
One day, a postcard of a silver spiral plane landed at your doorstep from the French professor you saw last time in Milan for a week.
He casually mentioned that he wanted to find a time to visit you in San Francisco, and you said for sure that it would never happen.
Now he wrote in crappy English that he was "very excited to come" and that he had bought a ticket to San Francisco and left 12 days after he arrived.
He said that he will be solely responsible for you during this time.
Because you know his taste, he will let you decide everything about your affectionate trip: a big and comfortable bed.
You lost the postcard because it was impossible.
How can you spend almost two weeks on your own turf with a man you only know for a few days in the fantasy world of an island and antique hotel, and you won't be able to maintain romance.
He will get bored with you and your ordinary little world.
He will laugh at your dilapidated apartment and think your art is not good and your shoes are too much hidden under the bed.
He will be shocked by how often you check your messages and emailsmail.
He will realize that you are not sexy. you are fat.
After a short few days in Italy, you believe you are a lively, fun, healthy person
He will understand that you are just another ugly American.
You won't see him again.
I don't know what else to do, you found a postcard on the beach for a couple driving a a1950s convertible that says you can't wait to see him, but you put the card in your bag for a few days, finally, remember.
Entered the mailbox.
He sent back a picture of the Golden Ingate bridge disappearing into the fog and said he was getting more and more excited.
You know, he's really looking at San Francisco.
15 years ago, he spent only three days in the United States, in New York, and now you are responsible for one of his experiences --in-a-
Lifetime travel in California.
You said to yourself, he's a lucky man.
Then you take them out.
You came up with a perfect 10 day plan in California, your California, and you also sent him a postcard promising to give him an island.
The day the professor should have arrived finally.
It took you a morning to take down all the artwork in the House, rearrange it, and put it back in place.
You also changed your clothes a few times and finally put on the jeans and cowboy boots you wore because you felt he might know right away that you didn't even try to imitate European intellectuals or exquisite French beauties.
You're a blonde.
When the passengers returning home drive the trolley in the open direction, you wait at the international terminal
Armed relatives and tired honeymoon tourists see this romantic city for the first time.
Finally, you see familiar denim jackets, silver bracelets and curly chestnut hair. M.
Hug you, you can't believe you are really at the airport, met a man when you had breakfast on the Italian island a year ago, the people you know for a total of six days
At first, you couldn't remember a sentence of Italian, and you took him out of the maze and went to the silence of Luo Ting, who stopped. I hope you can even spend 12 days.
"Eleven Hours," he said.
"Can I still smoke? " you told him California is a non.
Smoking status, he had flashing panicit before he lit up.
You put his compact packing into the car and didn't dare to take a look at him, then drive home on the industrial Highway, next to the big billboard and baldbown hills.
He is confused about the ugliness, you remind him that your Italian is back now and the highway to the airport is also ugly in Paris.
You come out of the streets of Mount Dolores, with rows of solemn palm trees and Victorian houses, and he starts to get excited.
You walk down the steep hill in the direction of Haite.
Ashbury, as he hangs in the corner of his seat, sees the whole city, from the hills of the House to the toy blocks and triangles in the city center.
What surprised you most was that he was fascinated.
He said over and over again that he could not believe he was here.
You warn him that your house is bohemian when you open the door to the 1907 apartment building you live in.
He looked around high ceilings, hardwood floors, molded wall panels, cheerful kitchens, salefurniture in the yard and books, and announced that the whole place was charming
He went straight into your room and jumped into your bed.
"Monumentale," he said, looking into your eyes.
When you explain how important and symbolic you think it is to sleep in a really good bed after divorce, he starts to kiss you and touch someone again and he is so good.
He's too sober to sleep in bed so you take him on a water trip.
You walk along grimy Haite Street, which has tattoo shops, head shops, old clothing stores, burritos and bond boutiques, and M.
Stop in front of almost every window and be fascinated.
You hate Haite these years have passed, but today it looks like a street carnival.
You tell the story of the 60-year-old rock star who used to live here, and the story of the old sofa that used to be in the revivalmovie house, over the years, how much do you know about the agricultural products market, independent bookstores, post offices and hardware stores, and how much do you like it.
This is a real community.
Sometimes the park will provide you with buds and doses, sotecvoce and M.
I'm glad he's on the famous hippie Haite street and someone really wants to sell him drugs.
You go through the Golden Gate Park, as long as it's half of the city itself, it's a miscellaneous gem that will never be built if it's up to anyone today.
You stroll through the tunnel, and a few years ago, stalactites were found on the ceiling, and then in the grass-covered sun.
On a nearby hill, the drummer is knocking on the African drum, the barefoot woman in the Indian dress is dancing, the man in loose shorts is throwing the Frisbee, and people lie naked
Catch the last light before the cold.
"This is what I think of San Francisco . "
That's what you thought before you moved here.
You go to the Flower Hall and shut down because it was hit by a big storm a few years ago, M.
The beautiful Victorian glass palace is surrounded by towering palm trees and neat flower beds.
You show him the huge Dalia square nearby, colorful and point out a miniature model of the rock arranged into a large canyon.
He couldn't believe the park was so big and crowded.
You can't believe how long it has been since you really looked around here instead of riding a bike through, invisible, just working out.
As the sun sets, you go home and turn to kolalvali, close to Haite, but in another cleaner, gentler world. M.
Admire how Europe's neighbors are, its cheese shop, its smooth blonde hair-
Wooden restaurant, small bar and cafe.
Along a small street you can come to your favorite sushi shop, a simple place with plastic chairs and Japanese calendars.
You are very adventurous to pick your dishes and it is a pleasure to take a Parisian to a meal, and if he does not pay a large sum of money he will never be able to eat in Paris.
He tasted every bite of fish and was surprised by the freshness of the fish.
The sushi chef came over to tell you that your taste is very good and he will feed you a very delicate fish liver the next time you come.
You like to stay in this little restaurant many times and the chef will wait until you are with a Parisians who have no taste and praise your taste.
You can go home a few blocks away.
He said he was comfortable.
He lit his cigar, even though no one in your house ever smoked and watched the lights flashing in the distance.
In the morning, someone is in your bed and you are confused.
When he woke up, you brought him coffee and he tentatively sipped his first cup of American coffee and was surprised to find it so good.
Well, you tell him, of course.
This is San Francisco, not America.
You took him for a ride that day and showed him the collection writer's office where you worked.
He climbed up the stairs leading to the attic, took the vent, Christmas lights, plastic shower curtains separating the compartments, and said that you would never find something like this in Europe.
You're in a hurry to introduce him to someone who works with you.
It's strange to make your fantasy world fit your reality.
You're still worried about what people think about this alliance with married French people.
You know it's good for you.
But other friends were surprised and dissatisfied.
Someone asked you, what's the difference between you and the woman your husband evaded from marriage, the woman you found one night and your ex snuggled in a sleeping bag on the deck, drinking wine, look at the moon.
You know the world is different and you have no threat to M.
And his wife, they are complicated French, they have a clear understanding
I won't leave her like your ex and his girlfriend and move in with you next week.
You won't move to Paris.
You won't even go there.
You can't speak French.
Can't speak English. No risk.
You keep telling yourself that.
The two women you work with have lunch at a Thai restaurant, although they don't speak much of the same language, M.
Began to believe that all women in San Francisco are smart.
Like to travel, like to laugh.
Your friend knows.
Gave you a little flash.
They know that it is precisely because in the days here and there you are not likely to get rid of depression and look out again to see everything that is alive around you.
They say he is charming and sexy. he likes to listen to others.
You take him over the Bay Bridge to Berkeley, where you teach a lesson.
When you get off the bus, he will double check your clothes and say you look too sexy to be a professor and all the male students want to sleep with you.
You said that it is not acceptable for teachers and students to sleep in the United States, and he shrugged: your loss.
You'll think that you're glad you didn't get married to someone like this, and before you go in, you put your hair in a tight bun.
He wandered around and visited the great American university he had heard of in his 60 s.
After that, you drive all the way around the bay and get lost on the Richmond Bridge.
All of a sudden, shopping centers and housing development centers were everywhere.
"We are outside the Oasis," said M.
You found the bridge and passed by San Quentin prison.
Ask if they are really still there to execute the personnel.
He said that it was completely barbaric;
No one in Europe understands this.
You can't easily say that you took part in a demonstration against the first new execution in years, but it's hard to keep track of so many people now.
You told him that one out of every 50 Americans is in prison. -
One out of every five black men will be there for a while. -
He just shook his head.
This is what Americans have heard.
You meander along Mount tamaparis, a big woman sleeping over Marin County.
You park on the trail leading to the secret entrance to Totoro Forest, where you can drop into tall trees without seeing the tourists.
You walk silently on the dark path, with prehistoric ferns and soft needles at your feet.
Finally, you tell me.
You are worried that he will get tired of you after 12 days.
Maybe, he said, but you may get tired of me in 12 days.
He takes your hand and tells you that you are a sweet woman and you are easy to get along.
You told him to welcome him to his space whenever he needed it and try to speak it in Italian.
He nodded calmly, agreed, and then tried to hold back his smile.
You don't understand what is so interesting, he explains, he can't help it, it's too much for a Californian to have such a space.
You tell him to imagine that he is on a trail in California, holding your arm tightly, and then grabbing your waist.
You keep falling until you reach the redwood tree and then a stream below.
The light burst between the soft branches and the dense forest.
You walk along the path that winds around the huge stumps and mahogany Cathedral.
"Incredible," M.
Look up and say.
There is nothing like this in Europe.
It's amazing that such a magical place is so close to your home that you rarely visit.
You can hike back to the top of the trail, check in to the comfortable mountain bed & breakfast, and have an ice rink on the terrace to watch San Francisco peeping in a distance like Emerald City.
"That's great," said M. "Gorgeous.
"You still remember to overlook another terrace in the Mediterranean with him and feel the same sense of luxury at a perfect moment.
The next morning, you drive down the Crooked Road to steamson beach.
This is the first time.
See the Pacific Ocean.
It may be called the Pacific Ocean, he said, but it does not seem at all calm compared to the Mediterranean Sea. And so cold!
You walk barefoot on the beach until you find a cluster of rocks that you can climb, stretch out in the morning light and watch the waves crash.
He searches around to see if anyone is watching if you can have sex on the beach.
The idea makes you happy, and then you suddenly think that your ex wants to have sex on the beach, full of desires, is now dead, you want to know if you can feel free and sexy at home without being haunted.
This place is full of memories and everything is destroyed.
In the end you will return to San Francisco in your own way along the ruggedcoast. M.
Looks like Spain.
He asked, "How can it be so wild near the city," and you also want to know the same thing, stupidly toast the visionary a few years ago and make the promontory near San Francisco underdeveloped
You drive past the Golden Gate Bridge, and its beams are bright under the blue sky. on this clear morning, you can sail from the dark mountains of the East to the Gulf, then go along the neat street stripes of San Francisco to the farralong islands in the ocean.
You cross the dock and enter the marina area, where you point out the Palace ofFine Arts you like, as it is surrounded by the giant terra statue --
Cota woman facing ass
Go around the world and make fun of the entire business of spectacular city monuments.
You go through the city and do what you have never done, drive along Lombard Street, the world's crukdester Street, when M.
Surprised --
Zag, you shrug, just like another normal street in San Francisco.
You arrive at North Beach from the top of the parking lot M.
Visit the city and its Victorian houses.
"This is a city of dolls! " hesays. "It isn't real.
"You walk to your favorite Italian cafe and watch the passers-by for a Espresso.
You like to speak Italian in North Beach, which is full of Italians and doesn't look like you are trying.
Take the time to speak another language in your city and make it brand new. M.
Announce with his new vocabulary that he wants to "occupy his space" and will explore the city on his own for a while.
Abandoning him will make you nervous, but you will realize that he has traveled the world on his own and is able to figure out how to go to the Museum of Modern Art before 4 p. m.
When you saw him again, he had already figured out the whole city.
He found Chinatown and said there was no charm in the financial district and the windows looked boring.
He strode through the art gallery and made the judgment of his art professor: the early years of Calder's work were interesting, Mattis was beautiful, and Clyfford was no big deal, and he was not quite sure about the California Super Bowlrealism.
He stopped on a glass cube and explained that he could give a lecture on the glass cube for three hours.
When you ask him what he can say, he becomes active. This chair!
He said loudly, pointing to a clean, simple metal. and-
Leather seats in the middle of the room.
This chair is impossible without this cube.
He keeps talking about an object, it's the positive and negative space that you see, you laugh at his performance, pull him to Roscoe, there, you have a common stand, standing there, in front of deep, vibrating, infinite red.
You take him home for dinner and do what you miss most after your divorce is to cook for a man as a prelude to sleeping with him.
You tease all his senses with a meal: fresh mozzarella cheese and summer tomatoes with basil;
Pasta with cauliflower, baked pine kernel, gooseberry soaked in white wine and reggiano cheese;
Bread in California is crisp
Salad with olive oil, scallions and lemon.
He threw himself out of the meal and wine and couldn't help it. he ate another one.
You brought him espressoand a glass of Arami Brandy made of ukaya, and you thought it was better than most cognac, and he agreed.
He smokes a cigar, you smoke a Jitan that he sent you last Christmas, and then, you are completely satisfied, you make your own dessert.
For the next two days you said you were out of town and played a tour of San Francisco. You take M.
Go catch the ferry at Fisherman's Wharf and see the professor of aesthetic philosophy spawn in the bin of a cheesy souvenir shop looking for T-
His child came home in a shirt.
You assured him that you would come up with something better than a baseball cap on Alcatraz Island.
You wait for the ferry and watch the sea lions sunbathe on the dock.
On the ferry you will feel like this is the boat to Ischia and it is a romantic voyage even if you are just going to tiburen for lunch.
Before you, you had a hearty Mexican lunch with all San Francisco and Angel Island, and then you took the ferry back to the city again, a little drunk and stretched out on the deck, then you go north.
You climb up a friend's apartment on the Filbert Steps, a steep garden staircase perched on both sides of the quirky wooden house where you watch the sky turn pink and the background is the Bay Bridge.
Suddenly, a group of bright green parrots flew into the field of view, which is just another miracle in San Francisco every day.
Then you drag him to the top of koitta and you realize that you will never go to koitta to see these scenes.
You tell him the story of Lily KOYT, who built a huge fire hose that she loved so much as a monument to firefighters.
This is a disgraceful, rare day where you can go from the hills of North Beach to all the territory of Tamm and tiblum.
You can't believe this is your backyard. "This," says M.
It's so beautiful.
"You take him to a trendy bar in North Beach to see people and see if the couple is right, decide if you like their clothes and comment on them in Italian.
Then you go across the street to eat at one of your favorite restaurants, a small one that tastes a bit like Tuscany and has no visitors.
You take him to the city lighting bookstore, talk about the Beatles, and have a drink at the visuvio bar.
On Sunday afternoon, you will go to all the places you like to stroll with your ex, take back the territory you avoid, and be happy that the romance of North Beach transcends your relationship.
You brought M the next morning.
To Castro, the gay district of the city, rainbow flags fly on the portal.
He was fascinated by the movies walking among lovers.
You told him that Castro was not as active as he was in his early 80 s before AIDS made it a living ghost town.
But it has become brighter again.
You showed him a huge gilded Castro Theater, where, before the movie, the organ rose to the place where the music was played, always with "San Francisco, open your Golden Gate. "at the end, all the audience are singing and shouting.
Walking around outside, he said that if one of his sons became gay, one of the biggest tragedies of his life would be.
You asked him if he had a gay friend and he said yes.
Don't you want your son to be happy?
Sure, he said, but how can you be happy if you don't love women? You said, we have cultural differences here.
After that, you take him to the dungeon of the gay leather shop with whips, chains and feet --long dildoes.
He asked if you brought all the tourists here and you only told him the bad people.
He promised not to fight.
If you just brought him out of the dungeon
So you climb the stairs and he casually takes a few leather jackets and flirts with the boss.
Then you take him to a great seafood restaurant where Castro has an atmosphere for dinner and he comments that people in San Francisco mix well before he eats crabs.
A few of your friends came over to meet M that afternoon.
Drinking wine in your garden, he is not as impressed with the Americans as he expected. M.
Praise a friend of yours, a journalist in his 60 s, who speaks French perfectly without an accent.
He said your Italian.
Good friend of graphic designer. boned50-year-
Elderly people with a strong sense of fashion are the kind of women who will be home in any big city in the world.
He was just a little confused by an artist friend in a vintage home costume;
You have to explain that she is not like a woman from the Midwest in her 1940 s who is a little ironic in these clothes.
You will be surprised to find yourself happy in your garden. If M.
Living in San Francisco, if it is possible that he will hurt your heart, you will never let yourself enjoy his happiness because you are afraid of pain.
You know he's going to leave in a week, but it seems far from foreseen grief.
You are completely satisfied at this moment. M.
He not only opens your heart, but also opens your eyes and falls in love with your city.
When the light goes dark, your friend Elena leaves and throws you a set of keys. M.
Ask him what these are for. tell him, convertible.