Arriving in San Francisco yesterday to a gorgeous day reminds me that it was always a gorgeous day here – bright blue sunshine – white light that twinkles in its crispness – cool dry air that is remarkably similar to man made air conditioning – and the beautiful people.
My cab driver is so handsome I have to ask him if he is Turkish – he’s not (Iranian and and Afghanistanian) – he is dressed so hip, he could be a John Varvatos model.
The hotel room at the Harbor Court on the Embarcadero has a can of personal use oxygen by the bed.
There is an Earthquake suggestion list which says “Stay Calm. Be Relaxed.”
I came home in the “madrugada” – those tender hours right when the sun is about to come up – and everyone looked chipper and clean starched (my cab driver on the way home, the front desk person) – it’s 4 in the morning I wanted to shout – why do you look so professional?
I wake to the same light, crispness, oxygen, coolness, hipness, strangeness, foreignness and again, feel so far from home.