An insider’s guide to San Francisco

San Francisco An insider’s guide to By Teresa Fitzherbert (2005)

When my husband first told me that he’d been offered a role at his company’s headquarters in San Francisco, I cried. It was October 2018, I was nine months pregnant and baking a carrot cake to pass the time. I think the technical term is ‘nesting’. The news wasn’t completely out of the blue – he’d been working in tech for a few years and we had talked excitingly about moving to Silicon Valley. What an adventure! I could go freelance, we could drink deactivated charcoal smoothies every day and do couples yoga. Yet I couldn’t help but weep into my cake’s cream cheese icing. Was my baby really going to have an American accent?

I also had no idea what the West Coast was really like. I had an image of San Francisco as the technology

capital of the world; a gleaming metropolis where everyone travelled by Segway and supermarkets scanned your retina for payment. I thought the high streets would be populated with luxury shops selling $300 leggings, Google glasses and boat-sized inflatable flamingos for all those wild pool parties in Napa.

But as our new family of three emerged from the airport into the dazzling Californian sunshine, that was not the city we saw. In reality, San Francisco is like a sleepy seaside town. The air is fresh and smells of the ocean and the streets are filled with quirky independent bookstores, speciality cheese shops and curious taxidermy boutiques.

It’s incredibly beautiful. The houses are painted in a kaleidoscope of ice cream colours – vanilla, strawberry, chocolate, mint – in a hodgepodge of styles. Many of the streets are so steep that cars have to park at ninety degrees to stop them rolling away. On the upside, the views are breathtaking and my postpartum bottom has never been tighter. On the downside, I once forgot to strap my daughter into her pram and she toppled face first onto the pavement.

Above: One of the many steep streets.

Below: Brightly coloured houses are common place.

Top far right: The Castro neighbourhood of San Francisco. Bottom far right: One of the many murals in the Mission neighbourhood.

Every neighbourhood has a unique persona. Visit Nob Hill for some glitz and glamour, Mission for colourful murals and trendy cocktail bars or Northbeach for Italian delis, bursts of brilliant bougainvillea and flocks of lime-green parrots chattering in the trees. While we were searching for a permanent home, we stayed in the Castro, the gay Mecca of the United States where pavements are painted with rainbows

and nail salons have names like ‘Hand Job’. Miss Godfrey would be shocked.

The restaurants here are some of the best in the country. Brunch is big (Plow, Brenda’s French Soul Food, Comstack, Tartine Manufactory, Outerlands) although they do dinner exceptionally well too (Foreign Cinema, Che Fico, Zuni Café, Liholiho Yacht Club).

At weekends we like to wander to one of the city’s many farmers’ markets (The Ferry Building is our favourite) before taking a boat to Sausalito, the little fishing village over the Golden Gate Bridge, where you might spot sea lions, humpback whales and the occasional great white shark.

We are a world away from London’s bustling streets and vibrant theatre scene but it’s a charming place full of character and contradictions.

Despite the fact that Silicon Valley is leading the world into the 21st Century, everyone still pays by cheque. I tried to use contactless in a toyshop recently and the woman laughed at me, saying, “that technology hasn’t reached us here”. There are more billionaires per capita than anywhere else on the planet, but you are just as likely to bump into a nudist on the bus, naked but for a tiny knitted sock on his private parts.

Below: Sea Lions at the Pier 39 of San Francisco. Above right: Crissy Field.

Even the weather is conflicted. On many mornings we wake up to a city cloaked in fog only for it to burn off revealing a cerulean sky by midday.

Even the weather is conflicted. On many mornings we wake up to a city cloaked in fog only for it to burn off revealing a cerulean sky by midday. I love to spend my afternoons walking along Crissy Field, a park in the shadow of the Golden Gate. Kite surfers launch themselves over the waves between its vermillion towers and there are tidal pools teaming with heron, sandpipers and brown pelican. At that time of day, the light bathes everything in a warm, subtly saturated glow. It’s mysteriously nostalgic, like wandering through a faded photograph; a place frozen in time. Nothing could be further from the truth, of course.

Yes, you won’t be disappointed if you visit San Francisco. When you do, please pop in and say ‘hello’. I’ll bake a cake… probably not carrot. R

Right: Teresa with her daughter.