Traveling Dina - Explore. Dream. Discover.

It’s June in San Francisco.

For me, “June” conjures up the true rites of summer for a native East Coaster: Long, languid evenings spent without sweaters or shawls, dancing to jazz in an evening breeze on the plaza at Lincoln Center; hours-long meals passed in sidewalk cafes, drinking wine under long, rolled-out awnings of green; clams and mussells steaming in a garlic broth, eaten on a deck overlooking the ocean, the setting sun sparkling through flutes of beer; or driving the back roads of small-town NY, sunroof open and feet propped out the window, in search of the weekend’s best Kiwanis Club chicken barbeque; and eating that bbq, sitting on a blanket by Seneca Lake from hot sun ’till balmy twilight, watching tourist schooners and private sailboats ply the quiet water, friends and relatives strolling by to say hello…

It’s the season of bright sun and long days, of sundresses and sandals, of pure escapism and good cheer.

But Summer in San Francisco? Summer in San Francisco is none of that. It’s December’s foggy freeze blanketing the city from dawn till dusk, paying no attention to the visceral needs of a Jersey girl. It’s slacks and a T for the day, jeans and a fleece at night, skin pale and hairy underneath too many layers of clothing. The occasional spate of 70+ degree weather calls for congregating in Dolores Park with wine and cheese and friends and the Sunday Times, but the fog creeps in by six and the long “summer” evenings are better spent inside.

So as to avoid the risk of becoming even more stir-crazy in a city who defies nature with its relentlessly cloying blanket of gray, I decded to head “Upstate” as we’d say in NY, to Sonoma County, for some good ol’ back-to-nature summer fun. I packed the tent, sleeping bags, Thermarests, extra blankets, swimsuit, shorts & Tevas, picked up a friend, (handed over the keys!), and headed north.

Unfortunately, one thing about living in the San Francisco Bay Area that is not that different from East Coast city living is that EVERYONE wants to get away for the weekend. Campsites at popular parks book up months in advance, especially those within an “easy” drive to the city. While all of the parks with challenging mountain hikes were already booked up, luckily Lake Sonoma, a man-made resevoir managed by the US Army Corps of Engineers, has a “first-come, first-served” campground, and our plan was to head straight there.

We arrived in time to have our pick of spots, and chose one at the top of a small incline, with views of the lake below down behind the trees and golden, grassy hills. It also featured a small slope between the tent and ridgeline that provided a modicum of privacy from the nearby sites, should we fancy a midnight blanket-sit under the stars. We set up camp, headed into town for iced coffees and essential camping provisions — sausages, sausages, more sausages, chips, fig newtons, and beer (Miller High Life!) — came back to camp, put the cooler in what shade we could find, and set off for the lake a short but steep hike away.

The sun beat down warmly, probably over 80 degrees — finally! — and the lake sparkled a deep green-gray-blue below. The flooded valley licked steep hillsides, the lake forming inlets and “fingers” of water poking into the secondary valleys between the hills. We could see the boat-in tentsites on the opposite shores, and the sounds of power boats and jet skis echoed up the hills. It was a picture-perfect postcard of lakeside summertime family fun, and we were headed right for it!

Or… so we thought. Instead of leaving camp again to drive to a trailhead, we bushwhacked a small distance from our site to an obvious trail. It seemed natural that all trails should lead down, down, down to the lake, and we headed out with easy expectations of a quick, cool trip to our dip. But after about 10 minutes we found ourselves… back out at the road! We checked the map, regrouped, back-tracked, and took the opposite fork, a trail labeled “shortcut” that for sure must’ve led downhill.

It was a beautiful walk on a narrow path cutting across the hillside through strawlike, golden grass, with the lake always beckoning to our right. However, our lack of progress down the hill became almost comical. Our xeroxed “trail map” was essentially useless. I became convinced we were going to walk around the entire lake — not the wisest choice of endevours, as the branch of the lake we were skirting was 9 miles long!

We continued to giggle (OK, maybe I giggled) and bumble along without any real noticable change in elevation until we noticed a small peninsula jutting off into the lake. We walked out on it, and finally stumbled down a steep, unmarked rocky path to the shore. We had our own private bit of shoreline, and after much hesitation on account of fear of cold water (me) and submerged objects (my friend), we summoned our courage and sank into the cool, alkaline water.

It’s been almost a year since I’ve been really swimming — New Zealand’s head-to-toe in a 10mm thick wetsuit experiences not withstanding — and I just bobbed along, relishing that feeling of almost-weightlessness, the slippery feel of the chalky water on my skin, listening to the echoes of my breath as I floated and looked up at the sky. We played around splash-style for a while (always a necessity, no?), then climbed out and sat on the crumbling shoreline to dry.

The walk home was remarkably quick compared to our casual bungling down to the lake, thanks in part to a quicker pace, part to knowing the way, and part to the strange psychology of the passage of time. We lit the coals, cooked our sausages, drank our beer, and passed a lovely, typical camping evening under the stars.

The perfect antidote to Foggy City living!

This Friday night was the benefit fundraiser for my friend Donna, who is in a coma in SF General Hospital. The Burning Man community, through which I met Donna, has really come together, both in New York (where Donna is from) and San Francisco to try to help raise money for Donna and her family. There have been auctions, movie nights, and other creative fundraisers, including the party we went to last night.

Held at a bar called Shine, which was just a short bus ride away, the theme was “Double the Fun”, and people were encouraged to come dressed as “twins.” Never one to shy away from the opportunity to dress up, J. and I brainstormed our clothing options and came up with a sexy matching stripey combo.

We arrived a bit on the early side, and were able to claim a large booth/sofa area for ourselves and our other friends who showed up about the same time that we did. Matty was fine chilling sitting down, so he watched our purses for us while J. and I headed over to the dance floor. The music was great, and the crowd was really into it. I didn’t recognize any of the DJ’s or the songs per se, but the genre of electronic music they were playing, “breakbeats”, is my favorite. We got our pulses up and our hearts beating fast, jumping around like little striped maniacs on the dance floor.

We danced through last call, and continued dancing up until they turned the lights on and ushered everybody out. We grabbed a cab and headed back to the Mission District, where I live, for the ultimate in late-night after-party grub: The Burrito.

We ended up at Taqueria Cancun, which is up there as having one of the top 2 burritos I’ve eaten since I moved here.

The pinto beans were soft and flavorful, the marinated pork tender, the small dollop of sour cream mixed throughout the burrito the perfect amount, adding tang without overpowering the taste. But what put it over the top was the cilantro, which may have been part of the salsa or perhaps added as an ingredient of its own, but the spice of the fresh green made the burrito.

Aside from the amazing food, at 3am, the place was jumping. The line stretched all the way to the bathrooms, and almost every seat was taken by “hipsters” (J’s term) getting some food after the bar or the party, not quite ready to go home. The jukebox was loud, the people were loud, the decorations were loud… It was the perfect place to be after dancing all night.

I love my neighborhood!

I’m sure I’m completely wrong in my analogy, but it feels like the way NYC has the “outer boroughs” meaning the far-reaches of Queens and the Bronx and Staten Island, and the “‘burbs” like NJ, Long Island, and Connecticut, San Francisco has the various parts of the “Bay Area” and additional counties. The South Bay is San Jose, San Matteo and other towns; in the East Bay there is Oakland and Berkeley; and you can always venture far to Marin, Sonoma, or Monterrey Counties if you’re up for an adventure.

This weekend, J. and I took my extrememely dirty Honda (for the life of me I cannot find a car wash!) to the East Bay — Berkeley, to be specific — for a 1980’s theme party. Those who know me well know I absolutely cannot turn down an 80’s party. I even have several pieces of authentic 1980’s clothing which have survived these *ahem* years and are still hanging in my closet today. However, the majority of them were deemed not “80’s” enough, and so before heading out, J. and I hit some of the Mission District thrift stores.

J. found a perfectly cheesy 80’s prom dress, and after some dress-up in my room, we decided that yes, I could wear my original prom dress that I wore with Adam in 19*cough**cough*. I decorated it with some buttons of bands who are my favorite to this day — The Smiths, The Cure, Depeche Mode, New Order — and teased up my hair (not nearly as high as I used to get it in 19*grumble**grumble* - how in the world did I acheive such heights??? I vaguely remember something about AquaNet and a hair dryer…), gothed up my makeup and put on very large, very lopsided earrings.

And while I still find it impressive that I can actually fit into my prom dress from, well, a long time ago, I was a little less successful in trying to act like the 80’s were a foreign decade. I look young, but the “Ohhhh, in my day…” stories are NOT going to keep the facade going. Basically, I love the 80’s so much, I think I blew my cover. It’s pretty obvious now that I’m not 26 like everybody else… At least I didn’t sing all the words to “West End Girls”, karaoke style. (Someday, someday!)
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J.’s friend doing a very impressive Michael Jackson (from “Beat It”) impression:

J. and me in our tricked-out prom dresses. Notice the hand-knit legwarmers! (I knew those would come in handy someday!!!)

Well, 2007 is starting off quietly. I have simple goals this year.

-More “House”, less “Law & Order”
-More Sushi, fewer frozen dinners
-More cute jeans and heels, fewer baggy jeans and flats
-More cameraphone pictures! Less letting pics sit around never getting posted or printed
-More weekend road trips and traveling, less doing routine things on the weekends
Relatively simple and easy goals (I hope!)

For New Year’s Eve, I went out for a fabulous if overpriced meal with my old friend Adam, where we split the portabello mushroom appetizer (kinda deep-fried on top, with a hint of cheese, very delicious) and the penne with sausage appetizer. My mushroom ravioli in a cream sauce was to die for, and Adam had a veal chop. We split a bottle of Chablis thanks to my dad, and it was quite nice.

Then, off to Stockholm, NJ (seemingly in the middle of nowhere) for a houseparty. Adam’s Magellan satellite navigation system came in handy, since we’d still be driving around back roads off Rt. 23 if we hadn’t had it. I can’t wait to get mine soon!

The party was nice, if mellow. There was a fire going out back, and eventually, around New Years, there were some fireworks, firespinners, and an awesome television-on-a-ladder that they set on fire. It seemed like a great idea until the acrid black smoke started rising up from the smoldering TV, but… well, setting a TV on fire is always fun, no matter what, it seems!

Now I’m back to work. *Yawn*

(Adam and me at NYE)

So I had a pretty good weekend, quite busy, which is always nice. Friday was Kris’s b-day (see previous post) which was a fun time of Mexican food and Margaritas. [As an interesting aside, this blog is getting a lot of hits from people who search for “shaved head”. Suddenly, I am popular!]

Saturday was also busy — I slept late (as those in the know understand I am wont to do) then headed out to meet up with Dana. We had lattes and lunch and chatted for a couple of hours. Then, Christopher showed up with my desk from Santa Cruz — he lives down that way, but his girlfriend is in the Bay Area, so he offered to get it for me; I owe them lunch at some point, it was really nice of him to get it for me.

Afterward, I finished up some boring work and then got ready to go out to an early cocktail party my roommate was having with her friends. It was in the Mount Davidson area, which is up on a hiiigh hill overlooking the south of the city. Her friend’s house was unbelievably nice. A modern, box-shape style with an entire wall of windows in the living room overlooking the city. Here is a camera-phone picture of the view out her window; apparently the brighter row of lights is Ocean Avenue. Yes, I know it’s an awful picture, but you get the idea:

The cocktail party was nice; I chatted with a few of my roomie’s friends who I’d met before, which was fun. The food was great — roasted red peppers and portobello mushrooms as well as stuffed mushrooms and grape leaves were my favorite of the offerings. I stuck to one small glass of wine, since I was driving, and headed off to Krystal’s for hockey.

The hockey game was great — Sharks vs. Anaheim — and an exciting game, too, where we kept catching up from behind. Our final shot was an amazing goal, with my favorite player, Jonathan Cheechoo, looking very exuberant. Twas a very exciting game. It was also fun to watch with more than just Nicole and Krystal — K’s roommates cooked sausages and watched with us. The dynamic was different than when it’s just us girls, but when they ran out to get some more firewood, we quickly reverted to rating our favorite players on looks and not long after that the conversation degenerated into talking bras. Ahhh, girls watching hockey…

The exciting thing about Saturday night was that after hockey, I had a bunch of things to choose from to do. Since Santacon last week left me a bit weary of the party-like-a-rock-star scene, I decided on a mellower night, and headed over to a small get-together in Berkeley to hang out with people I met a few weeks ago with J. It was a nice, chill evening and definitely what I was in the mood for.

It was also nice to crank up the music and drive somewhere. It felt vaguely like driving out to Jersey from NYC, which amused me for no real good reason except that it did. My next trip anywhere will hopefully have the TomTom GPS Navigation system (with John Cleese add-on, although there are a variety of accents to choose from…) so I can be told in a sexy British accent exactly where to turn and not have to rely on my shoddy, copied-down Google maps directions.

Sunday was… well, Sunday. I got up late, late, late, and when I finally pulled myself together it was around 2. I called a few people, decided to skip out on shopping with Dana, and headed to the Park for some leftover burrito (better than it sounds) and the Sunday Times. Eventually I got a manicure, talked some more on the phone, hung with the roommie and her friend, sorted through and got rid of an enormous box of papers and unpacked miscellaneous items, crawled into bed, surfed the net, read more paper, and went to sleep.

Heading back to the East Coast in just a few days, for lots of family Holiday time. I’m a little bummed to be leaving just as my social life in SF is becoming more satisfying, but at the same time, it will be fun to be home and see everyone.

And, what you’ve been waiting for, the requisite what’s-on-D’s-nails picture. “Wicked”, by Esse.

So last night was my friend (by way of Ashley) Kris’s birthday. They decided to have dinner at a great Mexican place way out in the Richmond, an area of the City between the north side of Golden Gate Park and the Presidio. Basically: really far away from me.

Since Mexican dinners usually involve copious amounts of Margaritas, I decided not to drive. I tried to take the 33 bus, which 511.org assured me would come at 6:35, and every 20 minutes thereafter. I left the house at 6:25, and got on the phone to chat with mom for 10 minutes. Make that 20 minutes. 30. 40. The bus simply did not come. WTF??? I was getting grumpier and grumpier and more and more frustrated. The public transit in this city is (excuse my French) for shit.

So, I headed a few blocks away for the 22. I saw it pull up, and ran as fast as I could, made it across the street, went up to the bus and… the driver would not open his doors. “Take the next bus,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for 50 minutes! Please let me on the bus!” He took off, and I just lost it. I kicked the fence a bunch of times, and a nice but smelly transient-sort came over and tried to make me feel better. The next bus actually came much sooner than the supposed every-20-minutes (thank God) and I settled in for another nauseating MUNI ride across the city.

Ashley had mentioned that Kris shaved her head recently, so I set out to finishing up a crochet beanie for her (a girl with a shaved head can’t have too many beanies.) It turned out really well, and Kris was thrilled with it. Here we are for a laughing birthday kiss on the cheek and Kris in her new beanie.

Well, despite the cold — and yes, I realize that it is not “COLD”-cold, since there’s no NJ snow or biting wind nor the oppressive greyness of Ithaca — I had a pretty nice weekend.

Friday night, I took off right after work and headed over to the Berkeley in the “East Bay” on the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit — sort of like a mix between a subway and a commuter line). After a rather ominous, “There is a *mumble* *mumble* on the tracks, trains are being delayed for 15-30 minutes, this train is being delayed!!!” I settled in for some text messaging and knitting in my relatively comfortable seat. Turns out we weren’t really being that delayed, so it was all good.

Met up with J. outside the Berkeley BART station, with her friends Tom and Margot, who drove us to Tom’s house for an outstanding dinner with about 8 other people. One girl was a knitter, so that was fun, and there was sheeps-milk cheddar which was delicious and went well with the Chablis I brought. Two people commented unsolicited on what excellent wine it was. Thanks, dad! Dinner was typical California: vegan, gluten-free, etc., but tasty. A delicious cauliflower pumpkin curry and a Japanese-style soup with very cool, exotic vegetables and a weird concoction made of yam flour called Kunyaku that we all enjoyed making fun of.

The people were nice, if a little intimidating — most of them had gone to Princeton, two were astro-phycisist grad students at Berkeley, others were artists — and for once I felt grateful for my Barnard pedigree. (It’s always nice to run with a crowd for [to?] whom I don’t have to explain where and what Barnard is…) Afterward we went to a house party where I’m sure I was the oldest person by far. People kept trying to get me to eat the freshly-baked cookies and other sweets, but I stuck to the Doritos, which were delicious. They must be in season or something. Not knowing everyone I felt kind of out of place, but I still had a good time. I especially liked J’s friend Margot, and I hope I get to see her again.

Saturday I slept late and eventually made it out to Best Buy to get a new printer — I just got the same one as Mom, and it prints, faxes, and scans and is fairly compact so I’m happy with it. Then to J’s for brunch — thick cut bacon, yum — with her, Sara and Andrew. Drove home, which took way longer than one would think, and took a quick nap before heading out to meet up with Nicole from hockey to head to the farthest reaches of the city to meet up with Krystal from hockey for her holiday party.

Krystal is a nurse, so we expected to maybe hook up with some hot doctors, nurses, radiologists, etc., but no such luck. The pre-party was fun, but the party itself wasn’t very crowded. The food was delicious — both asian-flavored and american (think thai-oriented noodles and spinach dip) — and the drinks free. The DJ was playing really fun, modern hip-hop music, and we had a blast dancing like fools for hours.

I don’t love myself in this pic, but here is Krystal, Nicole and me at the pre-party (when I was still feeling a little uncomfortable!) Aren’t we a cute looking trio? I’m wearing heels in this photo, btw. TALL heels!!!