Long before I moved to (the outer reaches of) Noe Valley, I was aware of its safe, traditional, almost suburban atmosphere. 24th Street is a showcase for middle-of-the-road eateries, shoe shops, flavored lattes, and fleecy weekend wear. It’s also the site for one of the premier stroller derbies in the city, by which I mean the roaming dog and tot zoo that occupies the avenue any given Saturday. The surrounding neighborhood, though, is filled with charming homes, relatively quiet, walkable streets, and just enough protection from Twin Peaks to slow the onslaught of fog.

Situated amongst the mercantile pablum of 24th Street is Harry J Aleo’s wonderfully looney Twin Peaks Properties office, which still displays random conservative memorabilia featuring Reagan or Bush/Cheney through its front windows. He used to post handwritten notes in the front, railing against the liberal loonies and any other affront to his way of life. Harry was clearly a traditionalist.  He once said,

Tradition means a lot to me. We have to maintain some of that tradition for future generations.

Harry’s since passed on, but his beliefs still resonate with a cranky minority wary of changes to their neighborhood.

Like many areas in the city, Noe Valley is evolving. The demographic seems to be trending towards a younger population. Whole Foods moved into the old Bell Market, challenging established mom and pop shops like the 24th St Cheese Co and Drewes as well as several wine shops, flower shops, you name it. There is an invasive proliferation of real estate offices.

And most recently, a Pavement to Parks plaza was proposed for the intersection at 24th and Noe and it’s drawn a lot of ire. Certainly, there are people who are uncomfortable with any challenge to conventional street use. I attended the first community meeting about the proposed plaza and many of the opponents made plangent cries for how it would impact the ease of their drive…around the block. What  stood out to me most was the fury some individuals exhibited, indignant that the city could foist something like this on them and their neighborhood. It was every bit the Tea Party lunacy of the health care forums last fall.

Just consider the contempt shown by opponents to the plaza in this video, which features some of the same eccentricity as a Christopher Guest mockumentary:

One of the obstreperous persons shouting over the city staff in the video is Joel Panzer, “master property manager”, who’s responsible for possibly the tackiest signage in the city (at yet another local real estate office).

He’s also interested in preserving Harry Aleo’s storefront as a museum to traditionalism. After all, they were here first and they want to make sure others remember that.

Maybe all this change – even proposed, temporary change – is just too much for longtime Noe Valley residents, who demonstrated similar rancor when the city changed Army Street to Cesar Chavez Street. I don’t want to seem above nostalgia or historical preservation, but I don’t believe in traditionalism. This city and its neighborhoods are going to change, despite heroic attempts to freeze them in time. I have great hope that, in time, our streets and public spaces will be greener, more walkable, our city made more vibrant by designing for the pedestrian environment over the automobile, thus reintegrating islands of suburbia like Noe Valley into a cohesive urban fabric. The Pavement to Parks program is a great way to test different ideas while soliciting community input. As with health care reform, I trust that a very vocal, but misinformed minority won’t derail its progress.

We just never got the East Bay. There is no shortage of charming little enclaves with names like Elmwood, Piedmont, Kensington or Temescal; names that sound, with no small irony, like suburban developments. Yet, I don’t think a neighborhood defined by a three to four block stretch of a busy street has much soul or character, especially when it all but closes down by 7:00 or 8:00 at night. Yes, there are nice little streets and some lovely independent shops and restaurants in the East Bay, but everything is disconnected by great miles of road and swaths of homes.

Oakland itself is such a weird place, all sprawling and discombobulated, from the bay to the wooded hills.  Pockets of extreme wealth and pockets of turbulent poverty. Pristine homes and ramshackle neglect. Manicured front yards and makeshift urban farms. I often felt like a tourist without a map, trying to connect it all. I think it says something that my favorite open space there is an old cemetery: Oakland was once thriving but seems to be just barely breathing at this point. “There is no there there” as it’s been said and repeated ad nauseum. There is tremendous potential there, and perhaps that’s true of the East Bay as a whole, but I’m just not ready to live in suburbia.

Anyway, I’m glad to be back. Here’s a travelogue of sorts from the last 9 months of living abroad:

The Best

Amazing sunsets. Of course, living in the flatlands as most people do, the only time I got to see them was on BART or on the vertiginous trails and lookout points around Tilden. And it’s really those features in the distance – SF’s skyline and Mt. Tam  - that make it.

Urban Biking. For its myriad faults and self-righteousness, Berkeley’s forward thinking bike policy makes for an amazing network of bike-friendly roads. Does it also make for aggravated, insensitive drivers on the more trafficked roads? You bet. Pedestrians, watch your toes. Oakland’s bike routes, while not nearly as seamless or hazard-free, offer a landscape unlike any other. Pedaling from North Oakland through West Oakland to Jack London Square is like watching a reel of Le Voyage Dans La Lune on the set of Brazil.

Springtime. People like to rhapsodize about the better weather in the East Bay but the difference is pretty marginal. The biggest benefit of living there, for me, was watching the foliage change with the seasons. Yuppies sure love to landscape their yards and come March there is a riot of green shoots and flower blossoms. We moved in the dark of January and the transformation was shocking, waking up to literally find flowers budding overnight. I had forgotten, and missed, the natural theater of spring. Walking to BART felt like walking down the yellow brick road…a barren suburban road where people scurry from car to house, but still. Pretty.

Oakland’s Ghetto Deco. I was familiar with the exquisite Paramount and Fox theaters, but looking at the beautiful tiled facades and ornate cornices of the old I Magnin’s, Breuner’s, and Sears buildings, as well as Flora and even the smaller structures in between (wait, that’s a wig shop in that gorgeous space?!), I felt like an archeologist uncovering a forgotten bustling city underneath the grime and mundane boxy office towers.

The Worst

BART. We were so naive. We thought we were trading a primitive, sloth-like MUNI for a more efficient transit system unencumbered by street traffic. Not so. It’s more like we traded plastic seats for cloth ones (all the better to hide mysterious stains, smells and booger collections.  See next.)

People on BART. So appalling, it deserves its own mention. Most of the passengers sleep or pretend to sleep so they don’t have to get up for pregnant women and the elderly. It happens every single day. BART doesn’t provide the same electric and amusing brand of psychotics as does MUNI, but the pathology is merely shifted onto the everyday passenger who treat the seats or aisles like their private powder room. Is it the long commute that makes people crazy? Also, what is it about BART that beckons nose-picking?  It feels like at times like I’m watching a first grade class loafing in Men’s Warehouse and Dress Barn attire.

Medieval sword fights. Dungeons and Dragons?  The knights who say “Ni!”?  I have no idea what these dorks playing with swords and shields in the Rockridge station parking lot are all about, but this kind of shit is soooo East Bay.

Markets. I really don’t understand where or how people shop for food over here. Everything closes early or closes on the weekend. The undeservedly famed Berkeley Bowl is a vortex of angry moms, trustafarian burnouts and mediocre food. And that’s just the parking lot. In other words, a classic East Bay clusterfuck. Monterey Market, while slightly calmer and offering some decent produce, is more warehouse than market and like most places in the East Bay, should require you to sign a release form before you enter the parking lot as a pedestrian or bicyclist. Market Hall is an overpriced bonanza for the banal. The Pasta Shop is fine, for fresh pasta particularly, but the average corner store in SF is better than Market Hall Produce Market which offers basics like milk at more than twice the cost you’ll find elsewhere.

Driving. The East Bay is a series of communities connected, if in no other way, than by roads.  Literal mazes of freeways, major thoroughfares, and endless residential streets winding every which way. Most EBers I know are more apt to drive anywhere and I can sympathize – the geography and lack of efficient transit seem to demand it – but it’s hard to connect to anyone from inside your car and I think the region as a whole suffers from the effects of too many cars and not enough vibrant public spaces.

Though it is spartan, even strangely adorned with vehicular impedimenta, I find this space very beautiful. It’s the drill court at the Armory, an incongruous building at 14th and Mission in a city that seems to celebrate such architectural discord.

The moorish castle-inspired building was originally built as a National Guard facility in 1914. It was empty for years, and always seemed like a bizarre fenestrated asteroid dropped on the neighborhood. Eventually, kink.com moved in and while I’m not privy to the exact goings-on, the word is it’s kinky. Nothing wrong with creative re-use. The best part is that they’ve leased the drill court back to an organization responsible for developing the space into a community center.  SPUR is leading a tour of the Armory on September 30th and other than crawling in a window, this is a rare opportunity to view this space until it’s fully developed.

Of the many amazing but forlorn buildings deserving renovation, the Hibernia Bank building on Jones and McAllister streets has always struck me as exceptional. It is a beacon for the mid-Market area, perfectly representing its squalor and stagnation, but also its tremendous potential for inspired urban renewal.  The stretch on Market St from 5th to Van Ness is desperate for revitalization, and ripe for it too, with many striking facades and shuttered theaters.

The old Strand theater, with the federal building looming behind it, defines the very discord of modern and historic that makes the urban landscape so appealing to me. The restoration of the nearby Book Concern building into incredibly tiny condos (250 sf?!) is not to my taste, but it does at least represent a step in bringing new life to the area.

The old Mint on 5th and Mission could be a good example of appropriate restoration and reuse of historic spaces.  The space is currently empty, but owned by the San Francisco Museum and Historical Society who envision a new cultural institution including a museum and visitor center. Meanwhile, Mint Plaza has literally sprouted up around the building to give the landmark new context in its urban setting.  As I’ve mentioned before, this was just another pee-smelling alley a few years ago. Now it’s a pee-smelling alley with plants and pedestrian amenities and restaurants.  In other words, a postage stamp size San Francisco!

Modern architecture can create inviting spaces in many forms, but there’s something really inspiring about these grand old spaces.  The style and accessories of their eras are charming, but part of the appeal for me is the very juxtaposition of the old and new in this city.  I hope that, to borrow an unfortunate phrase of my fellow mellow citizens, we can keep San Francisco’s architecture weird.

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I recently started working downtown and I’m still finding my way around its open spaces. While they’re not always obvious, there are a number of great spots to lunch and catch some shade.

Transamerica Redwood Park is a fantastic and strange oasis, set as it as against such a recognizable tower of the urban landscape. Otherworldly redwoods surround the space and it teems with wild strawberries. If it wasn’t for the many people who use the space as a smoking lounge, it would be even better.

The Ferry Building is a splendid lunchtime locale but regrettably lacking in greenery. This would really be a perfect spot for an edible garden; ideally an urban farm, but at least a tree-shaded seating area. Obviously, the plazas in front and back are utilized for the farmers market, but I think there are enough creative people around to find a way to squeeze in some green space.  Park(ing) Day is coming up, maybe we can improvise a Ferry Building outpost.

I’ve strolled through Sue Bierman Park (aka Ferry Park) and Maritime Plaza a number of times, though neither really have the ambience I’m looking for.  If your bag (lunch) is watching renegade homeless bikers fight with each other or pass out on the grass, then I suggest an excursion to Sue Bierman.

Overall, I’m heartened by what feels like a growing movement for saving, greening and improving our urban open spaces.  The upcoming Sunday Streets – the city’s trial version of Bogota’s Ciclovia (or another nominal addition to the mayor’s gubernatorial campaign check-list) – is a fantastic opportunity to experience this city in a different context.  That is, what if our streets became open spaces?  What if you could ride/walk/skate/cartwheel your way around the Embarcadero?  What if the medians were transformed into greenways, connecting parks across the city similar to what was planned over a hundred years ago?  What if Lombard Street was not a ridiculous fun-ride for cars but a unique park blessed with incredible views?  These are the kinds of questions that visiting open spaces inspire for me.  I hope others find inspiration this weekend to Slow down, go for a walk, watch movies outdoors and enjoy life.

Links

• Slow Food Nation
• John King’s partial list of downtown open spaces
• Neighborhood Parks Council

At a time when the City is cutting funding across all departments, not least Parks and Recreation, is there any way to turn this space into a vibrant landscape that engages the community? One potential answer: let the people grow food.

The paradigm is already at work elsewhere in the city through established neighborhood Victory Gardens and other local efforts. Alemany Farm grows organic food for residents of the nearby Alemany Community public housing. Even a median strip in Bayview was transformed into a garden whose offerings are freely available to the residents.

So I was excited to learn that a Civic Center Victory Garden will establish roots in just a matter of days. I can’t wait to take part and watch it grow. Not to get biblical on you, but the garden is where it all begins. As Michael Pollan said in his New York Times Magazine article “Why Bother?,” in the garden

you will have begun to heal the split between what you think and what you do, to commingle your identities as consumer and producer and citizen.

The Civic Center garden will transform a mundane space into an active, engaging, truly alive environment. On a fundamental level, it has the potential to instruct as well as nourish, bringing local, seasonal food to an under-served area. Perhaps most important is the example it sets for ecological sustainability. This is just one garden, but ripping up a boring section of grass and gardening in the City’s most stately plaza might inspire locals to do the same in their own backyards and communal spaces. The bees will be happy. More people will have access to fresh food. We just might reverse the effect of greenhouse gases one urban garden at a time.

Check out:

SF Civic Center Victory Garden Planting – July 11

I don’t mean to be daft, but the worst part of traveling on or around roads are the cars. One has to be vigilant to share the roads with traffic, but outside of personal safety there are environmental effects like the heat island effect, runoff and noise which shape the experience of a city-goer. More than perhaps we’re willing to acknowledge, cars have a tremendous impact on our enjoyment of city life. Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge these days can feel more like walking across the tarmac at SFO.

We ended up choosing a loop from segments of Matt Davis, Coastal, Cataract and Old Mine trails. It was one of the best hikes we’ve ever been on, certainly one within 20 minutes of our apartment, but that’s an unnecessary qualifier. The ground was soft and fragrant with downed douglas fir and bay leaf branches; the waterfalls were many and active; the vistas were extraordinary and clear; and strangest of all, only a handful of people appeared to share the mountain with us that day. I think we saw more hawks and falcons than other hikers.

Each time I go to Mt Tam I find it more remarkable. There are seemingly endless ways to traverse its slopes whether on foot or bike, as a backpacker, beachgoer or run of the mill nature-jerk. And though the concept of ‘the Bay Area’s backyard’ doesn’t inspire faith in its preservation or pristine-ness, I think the more people that get out of their cars and onto trails, the more politically viable reclaiming open spaces becomes.

If I asked you where Mt. Olympus was, would you ever guess San Francisco? Given that, would you ever be able to find it?
This is a snapshot of a part of San Francisco that doesn’t exist anymore. Stunning isn’t it? Many of the city’s stairways lead up to incredible views, but the stairs up to our own Mt. Olympus put one in the middle of a suburban-seeming cul de sac, where the view is mostly blocked by on all sides by condos.

And all that remains of the “Triumph” of Mt. Olympus is its pedestal. As if to cover up this egregious act, trees circumscribe the entire hilltop perch.

At one time the statue, gifted by Adolf Sutro, marked the center of the city. If you had the audacity to scale its hill, you were rewarded with the striking drama of the urban panorama undulating around hills (we have over 50), green swaths of Golden Gate Park and the Presidio, and the proud red bridge pointing to the mountains beyond.

The urban landscape is mutable, even incapable of remaining the same. But in the name of change old theaters are torn down or turned into gyms. Ridiculous towers of glass, modeled after air filters, spring up with freeway views and plenty of parking. We may wake up one day to find that, yes, they did actually pave over paradise and put up a parking lot.

Ok, sorry about that last one. But Joni’s right, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

Change can be positive, but I think it’s important to preserve SF’s peculiar metropolitan-meets-natural beauty. Because once the hills are topped with homes and the waterfront stacked with towers, all we’ll have left to remind us of how beautiful this city once was are the photographs.

• Where we were:
  San Francisco Historical Photograph Collection
• Where we’re headed:
  SF Planning: Better Neighborhoods
  SPUR
  Save the Neighborhood Theaters

A weekend walk through Hayes Valley, Civic Center, Russian Hill and elsewhere turned into an ambush of bodily humours, the nose giving me information the head wishes to forget.

Later in the week, a driver ran into me on my bike. It was more of a lovetap – one that I guess I could have avoided if I heeded the advice of a witness waiting at the bus stop and “stayed the hell off the road”.

Of course, every day is a golden day for a MUNI story, but this week felt mired in the same slow crawl of a city bus. Recently, a report stated that by shifting roadway priority to MUNI’s streetcars and buses on just 10 corridors, 3 out of 4 riders (out of a daily 600,000+) would see a speedier commute.

But to do this, you have to change the way the average person sees the city street.

It’s not a freeway…

It’s a fantastic walkway and a thriving marketplace for local foods.

It’s not an offramp…

It’s a neighborhood.

It’s not a parking space…

It’s a PARK(ing) space

It can be done. Convincing people of the value of the land in an urban landscape may be as slow-going as MUNI, but a paradigm shift is possible.  

Some of the producers grow on vestigial pieces of land in Sonoma and Marin counties, where continuing suburban sprawl and centralized food processing threatens not only the agricultural heritage of this land but its rich and dynamic ecology.

I had the opportunity this past weekend to visit Marin Sun Farms which tends an amazing piece of land inside Point Reyes National Seashore. The farmer/rancher, David Evans, led us from chicken hatchlings to turkeys to hens to goats (with cattle roaming the hills in every direction) all the while connecting his family’s long history in West Marin, the realities of ‘sustainable’ and ‘organic’ labels, small family farms, feedlots and more, to the way he and his family currently manage Marin Sun. For me, the tour really confirmed an interdependence of farmer and consumer, ecosystem and food. The more informed and connected we are to our food sources the more sustainable and healthy our food sources can be.

Getting my produce fresh-pulled from the ground and talking to the farmers at the market establishes a valuable connection with what I eat. Reading about the relationship of sun and grass, grazing and fertilizing in say, The Omnivore’s Dilemma, can further elucidate the link. Actually witnessing this relationship on a farm, and in a small way, participating in it makes me want to consider each time I eat, Where did this food come from? Who grew it? How did they raise it? I’d show you the chicken I bought at Marin Sun but I’m not sure everyone is as ready for head and feet on their food as I am. Might I suggest a farm tour to get you better acquainted?