Minutes–nay, seconds–after last posting, I disembarked from the shuttle at the edge of Lake Merced, and struck out north along Sunset Boulevard. The wide grassy thoroughfare was obviously meant to be a grand and beautiful park, but I found it more trafficked than pleasant. The grass is consistently brown, weeds are taking over, and empty dirt patches are appearing. The trees, on the other hand, seemed healthy and beautiful, so walking along through the patchy shadows was still enjoyable.
What I’d never noticed before is the careful naming of streets. As I passed Yorba, Wawona, Vicente, Ulloa, Taraval, Santiago, and Rivera, it occurred to me that these are all in alphabetical order. With the exception of a few major streets, this pattern continues up into the Richmond, ending with Anza. I was disappointed that they copped out on “X” since I’ve always wanted to live on Xiphoid Lane. Did the founders of this quiet district not have a dictionary?
The monotonous fabric of the Sunset is interrupted by a gigantic reservoir between Ortega and Quintara, 24th and 28th. An eight block man made pool of water, I thought, must be more exciting than yet another block of wooden cubes. After ascending a few hundred feet up Quintara, as I finally approached the fence, I expected blue glimmering water sprinkled with ducks, maybe a lilly pad or two. But alas, all I found was two four-block slabs of concrete concealing underground tubs. The ocean of rock was guarded by two hispanic fellows lounging near the egress of their RV, and several large signs assuring that they mean business.
After cresting the peak of Quintara, which is nearly as tall as Mount Davidson, if bullets of sweat are any accurate measure, I slid down 9th av, feeling like I’d finally entered the real city. Being unfamiliar with the UCSF campus, I chose to follow Kirkham to its end, and meander through the school onto Parnassus. The road (plus some steps) deposited me into a Saunders Court, which at night proved quite vacant, but even more impenetrable. After following every strip of concrete that resembled a walkway, I eventually lamented, reversed, and eventually found access to Parnassus via stairs along the edge of Koret Vision Lab.
When I finally arrived home at nearly 11, Ellie was cooking me a late dinner. I showed off my strap rash, told her some stories, then curled up to devour tasty treats.