Before I started spending time in Menlo Park and Palo Alto, I thought I might move there. The commute must be 45 minutes or less, I thought. And, as I've been able to make it to work in 40 minutes at times, my thinking may have shifted...
This morning, as I walked back from the Masters of Venice and Ralph Edward Meatyard exhibits at the deYoung, past the Botanical Garden, I wondered why I ever thought I would leave this City. My love affair with San Francisco spent the past three years waning and when I was looking for jobs, I pored over postings outside of the City mostly. Seattle, New York, Washington, D.C. and Los Angeles all made the search. There was no doubt in my mind that I would be re-locating in the next year.
With thoughts of an intimate Renaissance painting of Jesus, Giacommeti-like clay sculptures by Stephen de Staebler, and three beautiful black and white photos of men with bowed heads all dancing in my head, I walked through the Tai Chi practitioners in Golden Gate Park's Band Shell Park. I giggled to myself that I would ever want to give up these mornings by myself exploring art and culture.
San Francisco isn't the only city in the U.S. affording these pleasures, of course. But, I can't imagine moving down the Peninsula and foregoing easy access to the excellent Korean food I partook in last night, the friends (and people I don't know) that I can count on to share my views, the excellent theatre that made me laugh 'til I cried last weekend, and coffee that wasn't mass produced by a chain that has taken over the world.
And, while I doubt I'll be able to move anywhere else in San Francisco in the near term due to the out of control rents, I'm happy to have my apartment from the turn of the century in my diverse and mellow neighborhood walking distance to the Park, one of my favorite places to spend a weekend morning.
This morning, as I walked back from the Masters of Venice and Ralph Edward Meatyard exhibits at the deYoung, past the Botanical Garden, I wondered why I ever thought I would leave this City. My love affair with San Francisco spent the past three years waning and when I was looking for jobs, I pored over postings outside of the City mostly. Seattle, New York, Washington, D.C. and Los Angeles all made the search. There was no doubt in my mind that I would be re-locating in the next year.
With thoughts of an intimate Renaissance painting of Jesus, Giacommeti-like clay sculptures by Stephen de Staebler, and three beautiful black and white photos of men with bowed heads all dancing in my head, I walked through the Tai Chi practitioners in Golden Gate Park's Band Shell Park. I giggled to myself that I would ever want to give up these mornings by myself exploring art and culture.
San Francisco isn't the only city in the U.S. affording these pleasures, of course. But, I can't imagine moving down the Peninsula and foregoing easy access to the excellent Korean food I partook in last night, the friends (and people I don't know) that I can count on to share my views, the excellent theatre that made me laugh 'til I cried last weekend, and coffee that wasn't mass produced by a chain that has taken over the world.
And, while I doubt I'll be able to move anywhere else in San Francisco in the near term due to the out of control rents, I'm happy to have my apartment from the turn of the century in my diverse and mellow neighborhood walking distance to the Park, one of my favorite places to spend a weekend morning.
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