Running farewell

Black sand still between my toes. For a last farewell to the city, I went running along Ocean Beach. I had not planned on that, especially since it had been raining the whole day. But when the rain stopped, I felt a "now or never" moment. I unpacked the sneakers from the suitcase and took the streetcar to the Ocean. There had to be a last enthusiastic good-bye. I thought running would express that.

It was a very special mood at the Ocean. An after-rain ease and bright light towards the Western horizon. The dark purple clouds were still hanging over the beach, but had lost their thews to make it rain more. So I ran, for the last hour before sunset (I should mention I am a very slow "runner"). I picked up a weird, beautiful seashell. When I wanted to rinse it, I was said hello by an underestimated waive, i.e. my shoes were under water. They would now squak.

I was there when the sun set. It was not visible (it usually dips into the water, right there), but the clouds would get just a little rose. The beach was dipped into warm light, and the high clouds gave it an almost artificial, tent-like atmosphere. Then it got dark, and the winds started blowing again.

Now, I am back home. Packing, feeling weird. I had my last imported "Sonntagssuppe" (Sunday soup) from Maggi. The sneakers are sitting on a garbage-can-phone book-tower-arrangement in front of the heater, so they can dry out before going on their suitcase-trip tomorrow. To San Diego.

So. That was it. I am most thankful for a wonderful time, in the Inner Sunset. I guess I have found what I had come for: Sun, solitude, inspiration, and a bit of San Francisco's magic that keeps me coming back here. My new discoveries, Duboce Park Café, Arizmendi's Bakery and the concerts at the Chinese corner store will be missed dearly. I also know there will be those moments in Vienna where I miss to just hop onto the street car for the stroll along the beach. The seashell will be my souvenir, in the best sense of the word.

Farewell, San Francisco.
Let's stay in touch.

Europe through the back door

It has been a slow Saturday. Around noon, I went downtown to have coffee in the Yerba Buena Gardens (photograph above). The weather was warm, but the sky was overcast, and it felt more like a late autumn day than one in February. But maybe this is my mindset, dealing with the approaching end of a spring spent in San Francisco.

My leaving is a bit easier as I look forward to a few days in San Diego and a car trip to L.A. before going back to Vienna. So, I spent two hours at Borders, taking notes on what not to miss in San Diego. Oh, and Vienna is a nice place too! When I came home, what did I find on TV? Rick Steves, from Europe through the back door, was in Vienna, proudly presenting our old street cars traveling the Ringstrasse. It feels weird to be presented the city I live in by an excited American who poses in front of the city hall - and my work place is almost in sight. While I am typing, Rick is still traveling. In the last two hours, he has been to Tuscany, and is now at the Tate Modern in London. It seems this program goes on for the rest of the Saturday. And slowly am I feeling I should really go visit Europe some time soon! :-)

The final spin

I woke up in a slight panic: There are only 3 fully days left in San Francisco! I spare you the usual cry-out of "how unbelievably fast this went by". Yet, it frightened me, because I am unsure if: 1) I have produced enough text? 2) Had enough sun yet? 3) Enough melon cakes? For the cakes, it is a definite negative.

For the text, I went straight to Starbucks and wrote a bit to a call cappuccino and an apple fritter. For the sun, I got some when I was walking back and forth between the laundromat and my house.

Washing! How easily I can still fail American daily life. I DO know how to generally manage an American washing machine. For a European, this is almost ridiculously simple: Open the lid, throw it all in, pour in some detergent, close lid, choose if you wash "colors", "bright colors", "whites" or "wool", and there you go. There is nothing like a temperature control (this works over the color selection) or spinning speeds, let alone a button to save water. It does it all by itself. Great. The countdown function told me to be back in 26 minutes. That's quick. But when I came back, it had stopped by 12 minutes, and in the display there was some blinking: "unbalanced", it read. - What do you mean, washing machine? Is the balance wrong, like you want more money? Are you broken, as in "disturbed", unbalanced? I walked around the 24 machines, looked for signs, by making sure I did not look like I wanted to steal anybody else's laundry. Finally, I found a sign INSIDE another washing machine (under the lid), explaining that "unbalanced" would require the washing individual to rearrange the laundry for its final spin. Great placement of the note! So, I opened the lid, "balanced" the laundry, it washed, and I collected it later. All is clean now.

There are still so many things I need to learn in that culture. And I fear 3 days will not do.

Which size, honey?

My communication pattern is very different from that in Vienna. Or simply: I talk less! There is no business conversation, no after work wine sipping chats, no phone sessions at night. Here, in the mornings, my first complete sentence is often formed at Duboce Park Café: "One single cappuccino, please". - However, America is the country of ultra-friendly, standardized shopping language. And as a customer, one is actually prompted to respond in many ways: "yes, thanks" - "no, thanks" - "It's to go". That gives opportunity to communicate, also for those like me, who browse the city without company. So, which words were spoken today, in my little anonymous life abroad? Below is a list of the questions I was asked today. It incluses an eating scenery (lunch), one coffee trip, and some store hopping downtown.

1. Which size, honey? (Ordering a sandwich for pick-up)
2. With everything? (same scenery)
3. For here or to go? (Buying a coffee at Duboce Park Café)
4. How are you doing today? (Asked about 25 times today when entering the store)
5. Credit or Debit? (Paying for earrings at H&M)
6. Do you find everything alright? (Browsing far too expensive summer dresses at Nordstrom)
7. Do you want to buy a second shirt for only 10 Dollar? (buying a t-shirt at American Eagle)
8. Do you want to save 20% with a membership card of Barnes & Noble? (buying the new book of Armistead Maupin: "Michael Tolliver lives")
9. Do you want to have coupons instead for your next purchase at any Barnes & Noble? (same guy, not giving up)

So, basically, the words I have spoken today, were those:

1. Medium, please
2. Yes, please
3. For here, please
4. Fine, thanks (25 times)
5. Credit
6. Yes, thanks
7. No, thanks
8. No, thanks, I am not a resident
9. No, thanks

After all, this is not so bad, is it?

Can't do without Vienna

I am always relieved when, after an "academic fatigue" (which I had yesterday), the good spirits are coming back and I can easily concentrate on what I want to do. Today was such a day. I finished the second revision of an article, registered for a doctoral seminar in the upcoming semester (yes, that qualifies as work!), and wrote some sentences on methodology.

In an 11am blueberry-scone & coffee-pause, I turned on the TV. I caught "Who wants to be a millionaire", and it was the first time I ever saw the American version. I sometimes like watching the German "Wer wird Millionär", mostly because I like the showmaster Günther Jauch. It is interesting to see the differences, e.g. that the American version has a time limit for the candidate to answer (20 seconds). In Germany, they can take their time, rethink their answer, get a hint from the showmaster (only if he likes them). They go back and forth, it might take forever. Not so in the American version: "B, final answer", they say, and in the next second, they get their result. Isn't this telling something about American efficiency? Right or wrong, no arguing, and no second chance. Also, the multimedia aspect is pushed. There is an expert who can be called via Skype! Skype is also the one who has picked that expert. Very interesting! In Germany (G), there is no such expert, and there is no Skype. In G, there is only the three "telephone jokers", apparently the equivalent to the "Phone a friend-option", and they show pictures of the people - which adds nicely.

Anyway, I do not want to compare the whole format - but conclude with this here: Comes the question for the candidate: "Which of these European capitals is located farthest South?". Unfortunately, the Gentleman had no clue (you can also tell from his face). So, that was it. He went home with 16,000 USD. Put simple: You can't do without Vienna! :-)

Once by the Pacific

Today I hopped onto my streetcar and have it take me to its final stop: Ocean Beach. Along Judah Street, the N muni train runs straight towards the West, block after block, slowly approaching the Pacific. Somewhen, the Inner Sunset District becomes the Outer Sunset. Small beach houses, a forgotten hotel, some burrito cafés, lost hippies, and a store selling "cheap liquors". The atmosphere is calm and simple, as if modestly opening the stage for the raving waters of the North Pacific Ocean.

Once I have passed the Great Highway and conquered the wall of dunes with green and reddish cactus-plants, the sound is massive. There is no such Mare Pacificum, no peaceful sea. I walk the beach, with many others. I-Pod joggers, dogs with their stick throwing significant others, beach-romantic couples, one meditating yogi, and other uncategorized persons ("sonstige").

I don't know what it is with shores and big waters, but don't they not always trigger some inner geography? The readjustment of the one's philosophical compass: How did I get here? Where do I want to sail? - For tonight, the street car took me back to my temporary home, the Inner Sunset. Soon will I fall asleep with the cheeks still red from sun and wind.

Bottle Shock

That Monday was good, intense, and it started with a sip of beer: a homeless guy spilled it on my pants (out of a Starbucks mug!) when he hopped on the overcrowded muni train. Oh, great! I go visit a Campus on East bay - and I smell like beer? I was doubtful that was a good omen but was proven wrong. I had a very good day on Campus, made some contacts, and worked in the library. It felt nice to sit there, in my niche in the "quiet area", right next to Anselm Strauss' Mirrors and Masks - their almost "home shelf", so to say.

We later went to Heidi's place, and the beer shock from this morning was solved by a nice evening with wine. While having some good Cabernet Sauvignon, we watched Bottleshock. That movie (US, 2008) is based on the Paris wine-testing from 1976, when a Californian Chardonnay won over the French one. A scandal for the French, of course. And the movie poster reminds us of the Sputnik shock (although I find this comparison a bit lame...). Anyway, the true wine lovers among us (Tina!) might know that winery: Chateau Montelana in Napa Valley. I, to be honest, had never heard of it. And it also seems like that movie never made it to the German or French movie theaters... Go figure! ;-)