San Francisco

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The clouds lurk low over the city, while the ghosts of the prisoners lay and dream under them. Not too far from the prisoners are seals sunbathing. On the outskirts are giant, elderly trees who watch over the city. A place known for its abstract bread and large fishing ports; a city with many nooks and boroughs and a city that is home to one of the greatest bridges ever created.

San Francisco isn’t a city; it’s its own world. When my dad and I first landed at the San Francisco Airport, I fell in love. I am not sure what exactly it was about this city, I’ve been in many famous places in California like Laguna Beach and even watched my dad play golf at Pebble Beach, but there was something about San Francisco that stuck. The first thing I commented to my dad was, “there must have been a storm passing through.” Chuckling he told me that, “no this was one of the wonderful trademarks of San Francisco, everyday you get to watch these mysterious clouds roll in over the mountains.” I was mesmerized. I had already lived in California, but the moment I felt the air of San Francisco, it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever felt. I had forgotten how magnificent it was. With the fresh clean breeze I had longed missed, I was revived.

As we drove to our hotel I was speechless. On every stop light were Lamborginis, Bentleys, Aston Martins…..any car I’d ever dreamed of. It seemed that everyone that lived here was beautiful and happy; and best of all there was a Ferrari dealership right down the road from our hotel, I was in heaven. The next morning I never felt more out of place. My dad and I decided we would have dim sum in Chinatown for breakfast; the only problem was that we were the only white people in the restaurant as well as the only people who spoke fluent English. It didn’t matter; San Francisco showed me a whole world within itself. Later on that day my dad was taking me to dinner at his favorite restaurant in. It was called Bella Vista and it was on top of a mountain that overlooked the city. The drive to the restaurant was the most memorable and magnificent drives I have ever been in. As we climbed higher and higher to the summit, we got closer and closer to the mystical clouds that I couldn’t keep my eyes off earlier. The road on the mountain felt as if it was a magic carpet leading us to heaven. Evergreens surrounded us. It was as if they were god’s hands protecting us from the outside world. And the clouds that kept lurking over the city were now surrounding us. These clouds were the entrance to god’s home and now we were with him, watching over the city.

I had never felt a bigger connection to a city. There were so many parts to it. Just across the Golden Gate Bridge was a place called Sausolito. This place had the most beautiful and creative artwork I had ever seen. The painters and sculptors here put their life into their artwork; they didn’t just do it for money. And Haight Ashbury, a place known for ‘hippies’, had the most extraordinary people I had ever seen. This was one of the birthplaces of the “fight for peace” or “fight for love” movements. Literally every corner had a person singing and playing music for money. There was even a band that played on a staircase and brought more than twenty people to them. Although there were a lot of homeless or ‘different’ people here, they were the most thankful individuals I had ever seen or met. These people knew who they were and didn’t need money to hide or show it. San Francisco showed me that here a person can be who they truly are. Black, homeless, gay, or Chinese, San Francisco had a home for everyone.

San Francisco is one of the most incredibly places I have seen. This place has numerous cultures, places, sites, and sounds, and it doesn’t judge others for who they truly are. If one loves art, they can go to Sausolito. If one loves history they can go to Alcatraz or the Golden Gate Bridge. If one loves food they can try San Francisco’s delicious sour dough bread or go to Ghiradella Square. Or if one feels lonely, they can visit Haight Ashbury or visit the sea lions at Pier 39. San Francisco brings a world to itself.





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