Neighborhoods in Profile: Lower Haight
Confession: When I had first arrived in San Francisco in 1999 I remember leading a cadre of college friends with a faulty map and an Aries pace. We had hoofed to Haight Street from Powell Street BART station and once we hit Fillmore I announced to the group that we had arrived at last at this pinnacle of hippie-loving civilization. My friend, Sonji, told us we had about another mile left uphill to Upper Haight, the real groovy stretch before Golden Gate Park quietly begins. But Lower Haight is not without its charms. A bit more subdued than the infamous Ashbury Crossing, Lower Haight hosts about two dozen businesses between Webster and Pierce, little grocery and record stores and a smattering of Ethiopian, Thai, Indian and pizza joints. Salon Way (an original term) is a stretch of barbers and hair stylists on Fillmore between Hermann and Waller. Does it look like a fun neighborhood to you?
Hedonism:
Here I am with Felicia DelMar.
Last night, Mauricio, my friends and I had Thai for dinner before hitting up Cockfight, a monthly rendezvous with some of the brightest music and energy in the city. At $3 entry, you get to hear DJ Mykill, one of my favorite spin doctors in the city. He plays a funky string of sleazy disco house, retro and booty jams. The night is also special because of its innocence; people aren't haunting the dancefloor on drugs. They're just having a few drinks and giggles. It's a place I feel very comfortable as a sober man and equally as comfortable in taking any visitors.
My best SF friend, Sean, flashing his gang signs.
Just a few characters from Cockfight.
Architecture and Art:
The side streets of Lower Haight also whisper of Provincetown with clapboard Victorians whose fronts nose up to the concrete instead of being set back like the suburbs. Trees abound and it's deliciously pedestrian. And nearby is Alamo Square with the famous postcard row. Like Provincetown, this neighborhood has these gentle, walkable hills. Additionally, both Commercial Street and Haight Street are bereft of heavy automobile traffic.
Did the owners conspire on the colors?
Look at the mini-rainbows on the street sign!
Skull bunny who died from one too many photos
Suicide Girls
Got the funk?
Weather and final thoughts:
This is a city of micro-climates. The weather in the Mission, where I live, is pleasant, boring and almost always sunny. Climbing the hill to go to Mauricio's in Lower Haight however is a psychedelic experience in skygazing. The clouds migrate in a stampede of technicolor. Nearby Scott Street is thought to be the demarcation between the windy, foggy conditions of the western city and the rather dry, calm conditions of the east. Whereas the ocean serves as Provincetown's mood ring, the sky is Lower Haight's Crystal Ball. My smartphone camera does not do it justice. Here is a foggy evening looking towards Upper Haight.
My love for this city has been of the slow-cook variety and I am eager to see if I can make it on my own as a part-time dog walker and part-time writer. Every week a new source of income manifests, i.e., participating in health studies, tutoring, moving furniture, etc. My new plan is to look into Journalism school at Berkeley. I've decided that I really do not thrive in an office setting. Recently, we watched "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." The protagonist spent decades trying to find decent work while squatting on the little rooftop chambers of North Beach. Then the parrots found him and his life took a dramatic turn.
Hedonism:
Last night, Mauricio, my friends and I had Thai for dinner before hitting up Cockfight, a monthly rendezvous with some of the brightest music and energy in the city. At $3 entry, you get to hear DJ Mykill, one of my favorite spin doctors in the city. He plays a funky string of sleazy disco house, retro and booty jams. The night is also special because of its innocence; people aren't haunting the dancefloor on drugs. They're just having a few drinks and giggles. It's a place I feel very comfortable as a sober man and equally as comfortable in taking any visitors.
My best SF friend, Sean, flashing his gang signs.
Architecture and Art:
The side streets of Lower Haight also whisper of Provincetown with clapboard Victorians whose fronts nose up to the concrete instead of being set back like the suburbs. Trees abound and it's deliciously pedestrian. And nearby is Alamo Square with the famous postcard row. Like Provincetown, this neighborhood has these gentle, walkable hills. Additionally, both Commercial Street and Haight Street are bereft of heavy automobile traffic.
Weather and final thoughts:
This is a city of micro-climates. The weather in the Mission, where I live, is pleasant, boring and almost always sunny. Climbing the hill to go to Mauricio's in Lower Haight however is a psychedelic experience in skygazing. The clouds migrate in a stampede of technicolor. Nearby Scott Street is thought to be the demarcation between the windy, foggy conditions of the western city and the rather dry, calm conditions of the east. Whereas the ocean serves as Provincetown's mood ring, the sky is Lower Haight's Crystal Ball. My smartphone camera does not do it justice. Here is a foggy evening looking towards Upper Haight.
My love for this city has been of the slow-cook variety and I am eager to see if I can make it on my own as a part-time dog walker and part-time writer. Every week a new source of income manifests, i.e., participating in health studies, tutoring, moving furniture, etc. My new plan is to look into Journalism school at Berkeley. I've decided that I really do not thrive in an office setting. Recently, we watched "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." The protagonist spent decades trying to find decent work while squatting on the little rooftop chambers of North Beach. Then the parrots found him and his life took a dramatic turn.
Love, love, love !
ReplyDeleteYou should write for Lonely Planet or its equivalent.