Way back at the beginning of these letters, somewhere in M I think, I promised that R would be about my friend Rob. It seems as if I owe you an apology, as even with two months at my disposal I have been unable to link up with the man, and last thing I heard he was in the Mohave Desert learning to glide gliders.
I know his sister in law from university days and when I checked with her for Rob’s address she told me that he is never there, always at work even on Sundays. Seems that this is true as each time I called at his house there was no reply. His house is at the top of one of San Francisco’s, and probably the world’s, steepest street so you have to be very motivated to drop by. I tried cycling up once and just came to a complete standstill before beginning to roll backwards and driving is not an option as there is nowhere to park on his street.
I met his neighbour one time; she lives in the apartment below and answered my relentless bell ringing by taking pity on yet another “is Rob at home?”-caller. She is prettier than Rob but he is very handsome, looking like a cross between Leonard Cohen and Fred Astaire.
One night, completely by chance and against the run of things, he answered the door and we spent a little time together, sharing a bottle of Bordeaux in the kitchen of his apartment. It was the only place to sit as Rob’s flat is overwhelmed with books, they are piled everywhere, and probably all read or being read.
Rob has a heart of gold, taking in strangers like me without a blink. Within minutes he had already asked me if I needed help finding a job, had offered the loan of his car for a day and fixed me up with a lift to Los Angeles in a friend’s private plane, an offer I reluctantly turned down as I had only just arrived in the city of San Francisco and wanted to explore that.
Ok, I exaggerate a bit, the plane ride offer was 25 years ago the first time I had met Rob during my first visit when unannounced I turned up looking to sleep on his floor, but you see a measure of his generosity. I had to remind him of that this time as 25 years has passed and much of our collective memory with it.
When I recounted how that first night we had ended up naked amongst a bunch of his friends at the local hot tub he seemed to recall something, if only the unabashed openness of the young Californian or the institutional shyness of the new arrivee from England.
A friend quoted me a statistic that I am unable to recall exactly but which explained that a surprisingly high percentage of the population in this city is renewed every 10 years. Renewed as in replaced by newcomers that is, not renewed spiritually, which I think happens every day.
Rob is an exception, he was here at least 25 years ago, and he has the same job and same flat, just more books. How has he managed to beat the trend of restlessness that invades the city each decade?
By never being at home.
So, what to do with R? Maybe I can use it for a medley of musings, things that happen here but not at home in Europe? Right turns on Red lights? Replying to your mobile phone whilst driving? Reading for Dogs? Refills? Richmond district?
On of the decidedly good things about San Francisco is that you can turn right on a red light if the way is clear. For the restless and relentless this is a traffic godsend. But it is tempered by the wisest of road usage, that the car gives way to the pedestrian crossing at the same light. It makes total sense and makes movement more enjoyable.
Answering the phone whilst driving is however probably highly unsafe and the fact that this is still allowed here is surprising, as is the fact that the governor is an ex-Austrian body builder. Or maybe it’s perfect.
Reading for dogs, would you believe that? At the intersections of many streets there are rows of newspaper vending machines, you’ve seen them in the movies. The selection is eclectic, ranging from the national dallies (for which you pay) to those that are highly specialised and local (for which you don’t). It is here that each week you can pick up the Bay Guardian or San Francisco Weekly, the free listings papers. And, if you are lucky you will find Bay Woof, News with Bite for Bay Area Dog Lovers.
A dog’s newspaper!! Well, more or less. This weeks edition campaigns on the plan to introduce mandatory pet sterilization, Coyote attacks on two puppies and a fascinating article on cooking cordon bleu for your hound. There are adverts for canine acupuncture, homeopathy and flower essences, a professional dog runner (one on one) and a Canine Freestyle Workshop, that’s dancing with your dog.
And that leaves us with Refills and Richmond, but you have to wait for P to find out about that.
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