I walk up and down the hills of San Francisco. Exploring the west coast city with eyes of a southern girl. My first trip to California. Fascinated by the cable cars, by the people, by the smells, by the architecture my feet carry me all over the city. Blocks and miles I walk.
A last minute trip with my sister, the perfect travel companion for me. She deals well with my motion sickness on the planes. Easy going when we explore, but can make a decision when needed. As she sits in meetings and seminars during the day I explore with camera in hand. Yes I look like a tourist, but I’m okay that. I’m pretty good with a map and I learn to get around using the public transportation. The city is mine to discover.
I walk toward Fisherman’s Wharf discovering the curves of Lombard St. I am determined by day’s end to find it. I soak in the sights and sounds and smells of the wharf. Then I turn back and make my way down Lombard in the opposite direction. I explore a couple of shops then make my way in what I think is the right direction. Noticing the quietness of this area compared to that of the business district where we are staying. More residential than business here.
This city, San Francisco, becomes my favorite. Granted I have very limited experience traveling, but there is just something about this city. Big city mellowed out with an artistic vibe.
I continue walking. Crossing a diagonal street I catch a glimpse for what I have been searching. It’s towers bright in the noon day sun. I make my way to Crissy Field for a better vantage. There I remain, alternately staring and capturing digital images to remember. My spirit wanting to keep the awe it feels. Attempting to hold on to the childlike wonder of it all.
With plans to return later in the afternoon with my sister I follow another road back into the city by the bay. Giving my legs a rest I take the muni to find the Painted Ladies.
More roads waiting to be explored in this city I am falling in love with. Yes, the roads of San Fran beginning a gradual awakening. Leading me to possibilities and dreams long forgotten.
The roads of San Fran leading me to discover the artist hiding within me.
This post is part of the One Word at a Time blog carnival hosted by Peter Pollock.
