night and day
Being new to San Francisco, California, and, well really, the West Coast, I intend to visit as many places as possible [think everything from Hawaii to LA]. But for now, before the official jet setting begins, I’m putting my feet to the pavement and exploring the neighborhoods of my new stomping grounds.
I’ll be honest, my navigation around this city is pretty sub par. After all, there there is no ‘uptown’ or ‘downtown’ or even ‘east side’ vs. ‘west side’ to help me out. And neighborhoods, like ‘TriBeCa’ and “East Village” don’t fall into a perfect grid like I once knew. Instead, neighborhoods, like SoMa and North Beach, fill in the puzzle pieces of a nondescript shaped city, and I’m learning how they all fit together by trial and error.
This time around, I ventured to the Mission District. Having frequented the Mission mostly at night, my memories of this part of town are of the packed to the brim, often spilling into the streets, bars and restaurants. [And of course, the trendy boutiques.] Seemingly known for the grungy scene, the Mission is almost like the Williamsburg of the West.
But on this early morning, as the sun was rising, it was, well, the difference between night and day. Almost no one was on the streets. There were no traces of the loud and rowdy bar goers that normally frequent here. Instead, I heard the faint whistle of a coach from a soccer field down the street where a youth league was completing early morning drills.
So, I took the time to stroll through the passageways, taking in the graffiti art plastered on the walls and garage doors. Each piece told a different story-some violent, some disturbing, and some calming-like the one above that I landed on. There was just something so special about the early morning serenity paired with the vibrance of the art that I had to stop and try to capture it.
Mission District. Check.