‘Jiro Dreams of Sushi’ was the name of the documentary film and I saw it at the Bridge cinema which is a very old place that shows non mainstream films. It was about a famous sushi chef called Jiro, about how he makes the sushi, what makes him the best and about his two sons. The thing that struck me most was their mindset of being the best, not to be rich or famous but because everyone should strive to be the best in their chosen craft, whatever that is. They pick the best fish and rice, cook it in the best way, keep the rice at the perfect temperature and even dream of how to improve it, and work very, very hard. Slightly too hard perhaps. Apprentices have to do at least 10 years before they are good enough to go it alone, one poor guy had to massage an octopus for 40-50 minutes to make sure that it was perfectly tender! It made me feel very lazy and vow never to eat sub standard sushi ever again.
Wednesday morning I had to go into the office and the sun was shining. I was slightly worried that they had unwittingly hired a caucasian for an ethnic minorities new service but there is a whole mix of races in the office. Indians, hispanics, asians, blacks and me. There are two birds, owned by the editor-in-chief, whose chirruping makes it feel like you’re outdoors which is pleasant. The other interns are all about 12 and terribly earnest and arrived a few days before me so have been given this week’s work so there was nothing for me to do, a classic intern’s first day. I trawled the internet and the New America Media website thinking of possible stories but I will hopefully be given a story at the editorial meeting on Monday. I think that my photography might come in handy as my USP; I’m booked in to take pictures at the Trans Youth & Elder Brunch on Friday. Could I get, like, any more San Fran-friggin-cisco? It is Pride weekend so Friday is Trans, Saturday Dyke and Sunday Gay. The area around the office is quite quiet, lots of car mechanics and a few cafes and shops, a bit run down. I found a place called The Window for lunch which is literally a window out of which a different group serves lunch everyday. Food is relatively expensive here but you always get quite a lot for your money. Ordered a white coffee and knew I’d made a mistake when the man squeezed something out of a bottle into the cup. I’ll stick with the universal cappuccino in future. Used my time at work to buy a ticket to the opera, The Magic Flute, tomorrow and researching the Tenderloin - the ‘sketchy’ area, to use the US word, that I walked through yesterday. Apparently it’s sketchy but you won’t get mugged. It’s now becoming the trendy place to set up art galleries and fixed wheel bike shops so gentrification is on its way. Whilst researching the district I found a Daily Mail story on drug use in the UK for which they’d sent out female reporters to see how easy it was to buy heroine, I am glad that I’m not an intern there.
I am still trying to sort out my phone, the T-mobile people sent me on to a place called Mobile Kangeroo that unlocks phones so that they will take any SIM card. On the way I was watching a small group of people, walking round and round outside a hotel, with placards, one with a mega phone the others responding to his chants. Raymond, a tiny old black guy, stopped to tell me that they are there every day, going round and round. They are demanding higher wages from the hotel. He then promised to make my day with three jokes. “What did the fish say when it swam into a wall?” “Oh Dam!”. Number 2 was a maths puzzle which I said I understood but didn’t, and third was “What’s your first name?” “Hannah” “I’m going to spell your last name. Y-o-u-r l-a-s-t n-a-m-e”. That cost me a few sweet dollars; if I gave everyone who asked me a dollar I’d be penniless very quickly. The down-and-outs are really in your face here; it makes one very aware of how hard life is if you are at the bottom. Best tramp sign = “Why lie, it’s for beer”, surely a $ for honesty.
Whilst my phone was being unlocked I walked up to the cathedral. The outside is a boring, almost pebble dash brown but the inside is beautiful. Built in the 1920s it looks like a traditional medieval cathedral expect it is made out of steel and concrete because of the danger of earthquakes, a mid grey colour. The stain glass windows are predominantly blue and don’t let in much light but the effect is wonderful. It was very empty and peaceful. They have a labyrinth mosaic on the floor at the far end of the nave which they suggest you walk along without your shoes on, so I did. I think that it is a very San Fran, hippy establishment - “You can walk the labyrinth of life to the tune of the Spirit which you uniquely hear. Immunity from religious control is granted you upon entry” - from their blurb. There is even an interfaith chapel. As I sat there the bells struck 6 o’clock, a deep sonorous sound like a big whomp through the building, a very ancient sound. I noticed that there is Evensong on Thursdays, i.e. tomorrow, so I’m going to go to that, some free music before the expensive music. The tram lines outside rattle and buzz continuously in anticipation of an approaching cable car. The wind was up but the sun still out, it feels like a mixture of mountainous thin air with seaside breeze.
(There are parking lots all over the city, including underneath the cathedral and the one pictured called ‘Temple Parking’.)
Still time to kill so I had a pint of local beer, Anchor Steam, (they didn’t serve half pints but it was only $2) and a bagel. Saw a dog in a pair of sunglasses. Favourite headline from the local paper “Kelp, OK in soup, is also in the bay - that’s trouble”, whilst most inappropriate ending to an article goes to a story about a man who had admitted to but faced no charges for the murder of a farm hand who he found molesting his 5 year old daughter. A nasty story ending with “Shiner, a town of about 2,000 people about 80 miles west of San Antonio, revolves around the Spoetzl Brewery that makes Shiner, one of the nation’s best-selling independent beers. Even gas stations in parts of Texas sell it on tap.”
The kid who was sorting out my phone was called Calvin, after Calvin and Hobbes, and looked like a thinner, spottier version of Chris Griffin from Family Guy (google image if this means nothing to you) and laughed like him to. To recreate it for the uninitiated say “Ha ha ha ha” really fast through your nose. He had skipped college to fix phones and probably makes more money that a college grad.
Back to the bat cave on the bus where I watched “My Week with Marylin”, not as good as “Ratatouille”.
stopping to take some pictures at the glasshouse. Unlike the ones in Kew they have painted out the windows so all you get is a diffused light coming through. Like Central Park people seem to congregate here to do cool stuff; you can go on a Segway tour, I saw people competing in a inline skating trick competition, a Pedal Power Stadium where fixed bicycles had to generate the power for a concert, there is a field of bison, and it is massive! I had thought that a cycle along the coast would equal a nice flat ride but as I hit the beach I saw the coming climb, but I had set myself the course and I wasn’t going to be put off by the hill.
extra hill almost worth it. In the evening I dragged myself off to the cinema to see Snow White and the Huntsman which is rubbish, don’t go to see it. The script is really bad and the acting nearly as bad.
Head to Japantown. SF has one of only three remaining Japantowns in the US, it is mostly residential but the focal point is the Japan Center, essentially a mall with Japanese restaurants and shops. Lots of noodles and Hello Kitty, a mixture of things that the Japanese think tourists want to buy and what the American Japanese actually want. Apparently quite a few celebs have been and left their mark (see below). There is a cool Japanese store selling original Japanese products. One top seller is an electric erasure, for those who just can’t be bothered to rub things out manually and a pair of blow up breasts, not sure if these are a joke or not. Lunch was a delicious buckwheat noodle soup with a Bovril-like broth and tempura vegetables and prawns, yum. 
Feeling annoyed and very tired I took the tram to the quay side, ate
a disappointing cream cheese and smoked fish bagel (aka smoked salmon)
which made me more annoyed, walked up to Fisherman’s Wharf, one of the
attractions of SF, which was crap, which made me even more annoyed, ate a
brownie which wasn’t very nice so I gave the rest to a tramp but...I
did walk through the historic district of San Fran, where you get the
iconic hills and old fashioned buildings which is beautiful and made me
less annoyed. Stumbled across the Red Light district which was deserted
and a Chinese man smoking a massive spliff. Then back home on the bus,
which I had to catch from Turk Street of previous mention, and the
people on the bus were a safer, yet just as weird bunch. Of the people
sitting at the front of the bus, one woman had an oxygen tube up her
nose, one old guy with a permanent drip on the end of his nose was barmy
and kept telling people they were late, another looked as though he’s
been living in a dark hole for several years with really starry eyes and
thin, paper like skin and the final man seemed to have a whole host of
medical problems including feet that looked like dead coral reef they
were so scaly. When he left the bus I felt like it would be rude to not
sit in his seat but I swear everyone looked at me as if they knew that I
was going to contract something horrible from sitting there. There are
lots of homeless people and crazy people everywhere so I’m sure that
I’ll get used to it, I did think that Ladbroke Grove had its fair share
but this is in another league. My final new friend of the day was Wanda,
who on hearing that I was going a journalism internship gave me her
number and email in case I wanted to do a story on her. She used to make
hats, be a tour guide and now places a little guitar. I’m sure there’s
an article in there somewhere. 