Bus Report #99
I fell in love with San Francisco again last night.
I took the 22 Fillmore from work to the Marina, to time how long it will take to get to my class that starts next week.
The bus was crowded and at first I was sitting next to someone who reminded me so much of awful people, I had to move.
The bus reached full capacity at Mission. I had a window seat and watched people walking and riding their bikes.
Parents picked up little kids from the day care at 16th and Dolores.
Headphoned, messenger-bagged boys got out at Church and Market, heading for the Castro.
The sun was setting and it was a brilliant orange color, so bright I felt blinded.
The whole ride, I kept thinking how amazing it was that we passed through so many neighborhoods, each with it's own flavor and rich sense of community. It's what drew me to this foggy city in the first place.
We rode the hills of Pacific Heights, an activity that always makes my heart jump into my throat. The homes up there are so beautiful to begin with, then with the sun setting and the view of the water behind them, it was perfect.
The bus turned onto Steiner and then Union and then back onto Fillmore. The big houses gave way to little markets and cafes. The flower shop near the bus stop had sunflowers in three different colors, irises and plenty of roses. Several men in suits and women in jogging clothes stood around in front of the grocery store nearby.
The bus deposited me, the last passenger, right out front of Marina Middle School. I looked at my watch: it had taken 45 minutes to get there. Not bad.
I crossed the street and waited in the 22 bus stop for the bus to take me home.
It had grown chilly out. I withdrew my scarf from my bag. I knitted it two falls ago to match the color of the leaves falling outside of my building. I wrapped myself up, hopped on the next bus, and headed home.
I took the 22 Fillmore from work to the Marina, to time how long it will take to get to my class that starts next week.
The bus was crowded and at first I was sitting next to someone who reminded me so much of awful people, I had to move.
The bus reached full capacity at Mission. I had a window seat and watched people walking and riding their bikes.
Parents picked up little kids from the day care at 16th and Dolores.
Headphoned, messenger-bagged boys got out at Church and Market, heading for the Castro.
The sun was setting and it was a brilliant orange color, so bright I felt blinded.
The whole ride, I kept thinking how amazing it was that we passed through so many neighborhoods, each with it's own flavor and rich sense of community. It's what drew me to this foggy city in the first place.
We rode the hills of Pacific Heights, an activity that always makes my heart jump into my throat. The homes up there are so beautiful to begin with, then with the sun setting and the view of the water behind them, it was perfect.
The bus turned onto Steiner and then Union and then back onto Fillmore. The big houses gave way to little markets and cafes. The flower shop near the bus stop had sunflowers in three different colors, irises and plenty of roses. Several men in suits and women in jogging clothes stood around in front of the grocery store nearby.
The bus deposited me, the last passenger, right out front of Marina Middle School. I looked at my watch: it had taken 45 minutes to get there. Not bad.
I crossed the street and waited in the 22 bus stop for the bus to take me home.
It had grown chilly out. I withdrew my scarf from my bag. I knitted it two falls ago to match the color of the leaves falling outside of my building. I wrapped myself up, hopped on the next bus, and headed home.
posted by Rachel at 9:01 AM
2 Comments:
Wow. I'm writing this from Kathmandu, which I've fallen in love with. But you've made me miss SF. Beautiful description of the city's charm and beauty...and the neighborhoods I once strolled. Namaste from Nepal---Natasha
I second what 'Tasha said! Cheerio from the UK -G
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