Big Sur
Please pardon my cheesiness with the title of this post.
"Sur" in Russian is short for surrealism, and that is what I am referring to, not the actual beautiful region of Northern California.
I'm just saying. SF seems surreal for several reasons. It's very East Coastish in the sense that it's a walking city, it has broad streets and tall buildings, but on the other hand, there are palm trees; it has a plethora of small businesses and mom and pop stores; it has all purpose bars and establishments like Europe; it has mountains in the background in either direciton, like Bilbao; and it's perpetually September here as far as I'm concerned, so the incongruity of Christmas trees and displays and ice skating in the square is... that's right, surreal.
I was here last fifteen fucking years ago. That's also surreal; I was a real person then, with opinions and dramas. I remember that vacation very well, as I flew cross country on my own - after having missed a charter flight and spoiling my parents romantic weekend upstate NY. Conversely, of course, my agenda back then was more social than cultural, so I recall absolutely nothing about the city except what involves maximal hanging out.
Fifteen fucking years! That's what, half my life? That's the most surreal part of all.
"Sur" in Russian is short for surrealism, and that is what I am referring to, not the actual beautiful region of Northern California.
I'm just saying. SF seems surreal for several reasons. It's very East Coastish in the sense that it's a walking city, it has broad streets and tall buildings, but on the other hand, there are palm trees; it has a plethora of small businesses and mom and pop stores; it has all purpose bars and establishments like Europe; it has mountains in the background in either direciton, like Bilbao; and it's perpetually September here as far as I'm concerned, so the incongruity of Christmas trees and displays and ice skating in the square is... that's right, surreal.
I was here last fifteen fucking years ago. That's also surreal; I was a real person then, with opinions and dramas. I remember that vacation very well, as I flew cross country on my own - after having missed a charter flight and spoiling my parents romantic weekend upstate NY. Conversely, of course, my agenda back then was more social than cultural, so I recall absolutely nothing about the city except what involves maximal hanging out.
Fifteen fucking years! That's what, half my life? That's the most surreal part of all.
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