Dear San Francisco, One Year Later

Dear San Francisco,

A little over a month ago marked a year since I started living here. About a year ago, I moved into the lower unit of an unassuming apartment in SoMa (that’s South of Market for you non-San Franciscans and you’ll find that we like to abbreviate a lot). If you were to pass by our street, you would completely miss our apartment. It was one of only 2 apartments on our block, more commercial than it was residential, although describing it as commercial is also a rather generous description. Trying to find wifi when we were moving in was painstaking — funny almost — because of the number of times we ran into wifi providers telling us their coverage didn’t extend to our block because nobody was living there (……..but we do). 

In truth, our apartment stood in the middle of a block that was both in the middle of everything yet also in the middle of nothing. Nowhere close enough to the busy bustle of Downtown/FiDi, nowhere close enough to the Mission to be near families and a dang good burrito within reach, and nowhere near the suburban aesthetics and comfort of the Haight-Ashbury-Hayes-Western Addition blob. The walk to the closest movie theater was just out of reach enough for me to order an Uber on more than one occasion.

In true SF fashion, my apartment was flanked by an up and coming tech startup on one side and a construction site on the other. Every day, I woke up to the sounds of the beep-beep-beep of the safety signals on the machinery the construction workers were using. I was already good at sleeping (heh), but I soon became very good at sleeping through noise (which has now caused me to set no less than 7 alarms for the morning because of the fear that one day I would miss an important meeting). 

On my way back home after work, I’d pass by the lingering crowd of techies in front of the start-up also calling it a day, waiting for their Uber/Lyft ride or just chatting with each other. On more than one occasion I’d run to my room to slam my windows shut because of the randos taking a few smokes in front of the apartment. On a more surprising occasion on my way out to go get KBBQ, I opened the door to a homeless man getting drunk and high on who knows what on our literal front steps. Every now and then at 1am, I would first hear, and then see the urgent flashes of red and blue shine through my window blinds as the police and ambulances rush to yet another accident site near us. Such is the city. We got a front row seat to a lot of high speed car chases and snippets of police conversations without ever knowing who they were chasing and how it ended. Honestly, it was the highest and cruelest form of a cliffhanger.

Also in true SF fashion: getting dang good sushi was just a stone’s throw away. In fact, if you wanted to eat anything, see anything, or do anything, it was just a stone’s throw away. Anything you can’t bart or bus to, you could Uber/Lyft to. Even if you didn’t have any plans to eat out, to see someone, or to do anything in particular, just living in the city meant that your plans were set for the day. It didn’t matter if it was on the weekend or during the week, there was always something to do. Always a talk or conference you could go to. Always a Spark Social food event to swing by. Always a parade or protest. Always an event at the museum. There were always options. 

Growing up in the East Bay, I used to love going into the city as a kid for the same reasons. Every now and then, we would go to SF as a mini trip and each time my family and I went, it was an occasion. Like how many others wear their Sunday best for church, my family and I would put on our best clothing. My parents would put on their leather jackets (this was back in the late 90’s/early 2000’s). My dad in particular would comb back his hair and put on his best shoes, and I’d put on my cutest dress and warmest jacket. It’s San Francisco after all. We’d park in one of the lots in the Financial District and take the free shuttle to Chinatown, where we’d kick off the day with fresh dimsum. I would usually take off my jacket after lunch, my tummy warmed from good food and my face warmed by the sun shining over the city. My memories of SF are warm and filled with good vibes.

My post grad life began with waking up early every day when it was still dark outside in order to commute into the city from the east bay for work. As tough as it was to live with parents again after four years of setting my own schedules and playing by my own rules, I decided to stay with my parents to get some savings going. I would carpool across the Bay Bridge and get dropped off in FiDi, where I’d walk to the bus stop for the final stretch to get to my workplace in SoMa. I’d wait for my bus long enough for the crisp cold air to wake me up. 

Along my walks, plenty of buses, taxis, Ubers, Lyfts, Lime scooters, and bikes would zoom by even though at this point of the day, it would only be 7:30am. I would pass by a lot of San Franciscans and wonder where they were going, where they came from and what they did for a living. It was easy to spot them. They walked with an air of self-assurance, a scarf around their neck or a sensible coat on, airpods in their ears,  a cup of coffee in hand, and looking down on their phone in the other. Coming from my college’s unassuming beach town and my sleepy suburban hometown, I would feel this sense of unease as I headed to work. Maybe it was my lack of familiarity with this new pace of life or my anxiety around finding my footing at my new job, but it was at that moment when I thought how wrong I was as a kid. SF felt like a cold city.

Fast forward to the week I moved into my apartment in SF, I instantly had doubts about moving. The very first day I moved into the apartment, my throat closed up and I started having a sore throat. It was like my body was having a physical allergic reaction to the change of environment. Gone was the fresh air and quiet that came with my suburban home. Instead the air in SF was full of sounds… noises really, and felt packed with dust, dirt and probably pollution. 

I soon realized that I could no longer weasel my way out of work events with the excuse of the long commute back home. That was also when I realized with a surprise that I had used that as an excuse in the past.

I got really honest with myself when I made this realization. I wanted to understand why. Why was I avoiding opportunities to bond with my co-workers and new friends I met outside of work? I had thought that my responses were due to my introverted nature — and sure, at times that is fine for the sake of your own mental health — but I knew deep down that I was saying “no” to invitations more often than “yes” with no good reason and at a time when I should be embracing my new life in the city and at this new life post-college. 

The time I spent at home was a disguise really, for the transition from the college life I grew used to, to post-grad life. Living at home, as annoying as it was in terms of boundaries, also had its perks and comforts. I didn’t have to worry about cooking dinner and my mom would throw in my laundry with the family’s despite my protests that I could do it myself. Moving to my own space meant juggling a job while full-on adulting and coming to terms with this new reality and new normal in life. 

I continued to give a lot of thought around how I was reacting to this change to post-grad life. It boiled down to discomfort, really. I was uncomfortable with the idea of the unfamiliar and with needing to put myself out there even though that might lead to more unfamiliar ground. Ironically, this reminds me of what a colleague had said to me about client escalations at work. “It gets worse before it gets better.”

I made up my mind to make more of an effort, and eventually my “maybes” to invites became “yes” and it became easier and easier to say yes when I got to know people who went from strangers to friends. 

A year later, I made plenty of new friends and have a great support system of friends from work and from outside of work. The start-up near us has closed shop while something that’s starting to look like an apartment building is rising from the wood piles of the construction site. 

Working from home (as a result of COVID) led to some new experiences. From working at home, I now know that a few of the construction workers like to sit on our front steps and watch Youtube clips on their phones for their lunch break. I take my meetings at the dining table and announce ahead of time to my housemates if I have a video call with a customer soon, since it’s located right next to the kitchen (and you’ll find it to be a traffic-heavy area during the day, which I personally am also guilty of contributing to). Ironically, I feel like I work more at home now and miss my lunches and chats with co-worker friends in the office.

I think I’ve been going through a wake up call of sorts, now that I have no option but to stay inside because of COVID. I didn’t realize how much of the city I still haven’t explored, and how I haven’t made the most out of my time here. I think I’ve only traversed maybe 1/8th of the city because when the weekend rolled around I would opt for staying in more often than I’d like to admit after using up a day for chores or I’d think to myself, “I’ll go to that event next time”. Who knew next time probably wouldn’t be until next year…or who knows when at this rate.

Now I’m afraid that I’ll leave SF before I get the chance to really get to know the city and before I get to really understand why everybody leaves their heart in San Francisco, as many singers have sung before. 

Maybe it will be one of those moments, long since I’ve moved out and on, when I’ll remember the good times spent with good people here, and the cable cars climbing up those hills, and runs to Mel’s burgers, and making bad jokes about Karl the Fog, and seeing the Golden Gate from Wave Organ, and talking crap on the SalesForce tower peeking obnoxiously over all the other skyscrapers and thinking — yeah. I did leave my heart in San Francisco. 

My love waits there in San Francisco

Above the blue and windy sea

When I come home to you, San Francisco

Your golden sun will shine for me