The neatly handwritten chalkboard sign at the health-food eatery in San Francisco not only said it all, it said too much:
"Organic. Plant Based. Whole Foods. No Gluten. No GMOs. No Dairy. Good Fat. Good Sugar. Delicious Food. No Kidding."
San Francisco, you shouldn't have to try so hard.
San Francisco’s natural beauty can sometimes be offset by a reputation for a bit of self-righteousness. Photo Credit: Danny King
My on-and-off love affair with the City (yes, the locals capitalize the "C," which merely reinforces its sometimes elitist reputation) began as a 16-year-old on a family trip with my parents. It took its most recent turn on a last-minute trek with my wife and kids over Thanksgiving week.
Having lived in the Bay Area intermittently as a college student, a young professional and a married parent of an infant, my attitude toward San Francisco has ranged from total devotion (running the Bay-to-Breakers foot race gave this Angeleno a sense of community he never found in his hometown) to exasperation (as a longtime friend and former San Francisco resident once told me, you can bring either a kid or a dog to a local park without getting the stink-eye, but not both).
True to form, the City did and did not disappoint. With money continuing to flood into the region via the latest technology boom, San Francisco-proper rents have been driven up to Manhattan levels, giving the 49-square-mile town a push-pull dynamic that matches the legendarily strong currents washing under the Golden Gate Bridge.
Even an innocuous chat with a local shopkeeper at the foot of Telegraph Hill inevitably evolves into consternation over moneyed tech employees pushing hundreds of Latino families out of the Mission District. Meanwhile, the opening of Twitter and Uber offices in recent years has only made the continuing homelessness in the Tenderloin and Civic Center areas nearby all the more stark and distressing.
That dynamic is reflected in the tourism industry, as well. Last year, San Francisco boosted its visitor count by 6.5%, to an annual record 18 million visitors, according to the San Francisco Travel Association. More pointedly, San Francisco has one-tenth the population of New York (and is one-sixth the physical size) yet receives one-third of the visitors. That can make for an expensive trip, as San Francisco's hotel-room prices this year have leapfrogged Oahu's to become the country's second-highest after New York's, according to STR.
Such visitor numbers can also make for an uneasy truce between tourists and locals. Live on or near Russian Hill (if you can afford it), and the air will alternate between the smell of the salt breeze coming off the bay and the stench of brake dust and burning clutches of cars (mine included, recently) traversing the hill and its crooked section of Lombard Street.
Even a scalding-hot cup of espresso can bring frostiness. During our visit to North Beach's iconic Caffe Trieste (where Francis Ford Coppola was said to have written much of "The Godfather" screenplay), the two young women from overseas who were in line in front of me broke out their smartphones for a snapshot of the young barista before he admonished them, "Please! Please don't do that."
Still, while the locals' efforts to trumpet the City's historically progressive role in everything from Beat literature to LGBT rights to hippie culture to sustainable culinary practices can sometimes ring clumsily, San Francisco can be glorious, especially if the weather holds out.
One morning found us eating breakfast at the relaxing and insanely reasonable (by local standards) Crossroads Cafe near the waterfront (true to San Francisco's progressive form, the cafe is part of the Delancey Street Foundation social-services program); hopping a streetcar along the Embarcadero; watching ice skaters at the temporary holiday-season rink in Justin Herman Plaza; and finishing up at Pier 15's Exploratorium, which is massive and mind-bending for kids and adults alike.
A less eventful but similarly fulfilling afternoon found us in Golden Gate Park, where the meditative Japanese Tea Garden and lush surroundings of nearby Stow Lake enabled us to double-down on some much-needed Zen, even with the kids in tow.
Few travel experiences can beat grabbing a handful of Italian sandwiches from North Beach's 119-year-old Molinari Delicatessen, snagging a park bench a few blocks away in Washington Square and passing a couple hours either watching elderly Chinese locals do tai-chi or throwing around a football with the kids while scarfing down the grub.
The reporter’s children take in the Presidio. Photo Credit: Danny King
Lodging-wise, the Inn at the Presidio, where we enjoyed a hosted stay, managed to capture the City's combination of history, beauty and vibe. Redeveloped within the former military base out of the century-old Pershing Hall and opened in 2012 (a second Presidio hotel is slated to open with about 40 rooms in 2017), the 22-room Inn includes 17 massive suites whose design combines Old California (leather-covered trunks and ottomans as well as lots of black-and-white military photos and framed maps) with colorful accents (black doors, aquamarine bathroom tiles).
The Inn's relaxed vibe, which included touches such as a sunlight-filled breakfast buffet to the sounds of classic jazz, a dog-friendly policy and an exterior fire pit with views of the tree groves nearby reflected a B&B feel but without the fussiness.
The Inn's location within the 1,500-acre Presidio on the northwest tip of the City, which continues to be privatized with restaurants, housing and businesses, also offered a respite from San Francisco's noise and close quarters as well as easy access to hiking trails, museums such as the Presidio Officer's Club and Walt Disney Family Museum, a bowling alley and, in our case, acres of fields for pre-Thanksgiving-dinner touch football with friends.
All of which made a potential U-turn west after a visit to Berkeley on our trip's final day all the more tempting. Because the place still can't be beat when thousands of walkers, runners, bikers and dog-owning Frisbee throwers are out in force at Crissy Field, a cloudless day affords crystal-clear views of the Golden Gate Bridge and Marin County beyond, and your 10-year-old son's ear-splitting cry of "konnichiwa!" causes an elderly Japanese gentleman to chuckle to his family.