The world is filled with isms - some bad, some good. If we can keep our eyes open and just experience the isms happening all around us, life will be more entertaining. My friends and I coined the term "San Franciscism" which we use constantly when walking around the streets of Russian Hill and North Beach.
Before I moved to San Francisco, Linzy lived in a house full of boys in Russian Hill. I came to visit often as I was looking for a job in the city. One week I slept over in her shoebox sized room. In the morning we got up early (because I had an interview and Linzy had work) and went to get a coffee. After drinking too much coffee way to slowly, I went running back up to Linzy's house to get ready. Linzy was 10-feet behind me so I left the door open. When Linzy got home she shut it only for one of her roommates to open it again. Why am I telling you about the door you may wonder...
When I was finally ready for the interview I went to the living room to grab my purse. It wasn't on the couch where I remembered having left it, but I thought I was just having a nervous moment and proceeded to search the living room. Still, nowhere to be found. I then proceeded to pull the entire house apart room by room wondering if I threw it down in some haze of coffee and interview angst. No where. It was getting close to interview time so Linzy loaned me money and I hopped in a cab.
Right before walking in the door of Chronicle Books (the nerve inducing interview) I received a call from the SFPD. "Ma'am," a smoke filled voice said, "Ma'am, we have something we think is yours here in our station house. Did you lose something this morning?" "I don't think so," I stupidly replied, not even putting the purse and the call together. After all, how could they find my purse in Linzy's house? That would be just too big brother. "Ma'am we have a purse here with a prescription inside - the pharmacy said it's yours. Are you sure?" Odd, I thought. But maybe I had left it in Starbucks...regardless, thank goodness for drugs - they double as tracking devices. "Wow!" I said with a sudden bolt of recognition. "Yes - this is great news." The officer gave me the location of the station and said to come by in the afternoon. After the interview I made my way to the Nob Hill station to collect my things. Upon arrival I was greeted with 10-pages to fill out, double sided, reporting the 'purse loss.' When my hand was thoroughly cramped, and memory drained from trying to piece together the happenings that morning, the officer gave me my lost purse. Inside was the prescription, some gum, and...no wallet. The officer said my purse had been found under a car. He assumed someone stole it from Linzy's living room when the door was open and that someone was probably a man. He was going through the purse and as soon as he found the goods (my wallet) he threw the purse under a car so as not to look too odd in a city carrying a purse. A week later Linzy said her roommate's bike was stolen out of the living room in the same fashion. Two weeks later Linzy's neighbors said they saw an older man on her stairs looking in the window of the house. Three weeks later Linzy and I saw the same man in front of her apartment - about 80 years old, bald but for a few hairs, short, missing a few teeth, and dirty. I walked up to the man and said, "excuse me sir, have you seen an orange wallet?" Thought it was worth a try anyways. His reply? The man started smacking his lips and jumping backwards up the hill. Odd, very odd. An ism none the less. The story ended with my identity getting stolen and the FBI showing up at my new job (no, not Chronicle books - I blame the none-hire on my being so shaken that morning) my first day of work.
It turns out whoever was the end recipient of my wallet enjoyed my social security card and credit cards by ordering more credit cards and participating in a year-long stint of mail fraud. Great. Last year Linzy and I were walking to coffee down Columbus and a man wearing a hula skirt was singing Christmas carols and playing a violin in front of a candy store on the boarder of China town. A definite San Francisco moment - a San Franciscism.
Two weeks ago Lisa and I were walking to coffee before yoga. We were wearing spandex - not a common occurrence but we just had a bit of time before yoga. We walked into Starbucks and a man walked in right behind us. It was too crowded inside so we turned around and walked out. The man followed - not too random seeing as it was so crowded. Lisa and I started walking up the street and the man followed. It was starting to get weird. I was getting creeped out and said "look Lis, a residential zone - turn now!" We turned up a residential street, and the man followed. Still creepy. Then I said, "look Lis, and apartment - turn and stop now!" The man kept walking. Lisa and I made our way back up to Chestnut and went to Walgreens to get house cleaning supplies (and get off the street before class). Once inside we noticed the man was again right behind us. He followed us up and down the aisles. We got in line, and the man was right behind us. Lisa turned around and noticed something odd (ok, odder) the man was carrying a small dog bag and out of it was sticking a video camera. Red light on. EW! The terrible thing is we were both so frozen we didn't know what to say to the man so we paid and took off as quickly as possible. I know, you might be reading this and think "why didn't they yell at him." Remember, we were frozen. As soon as I got home from yoga, I got online and started searching "San Francisco butts" and "bum cam". But, although this was a creepy odd event, it definitely was an ism.
My past travels have taken me to Greece, Italy, Spain, Portugal, Israel, Egypt, Switzerland, Germany, Belgium, Sweden, France, Mexico, Costa Rica, two stints in London (one working, one studying), and Thailand...and a few places in the US (some of which felt like a foreign country. Travels started before I can remember going to Ibiza with my mother - and continuing to go but not remember everything in my teen years. Then, in high-school I was blessed to be invited by my track coach to go on a trip called "Arete" for which I and 7 other track team-mates studies religion and philosophy prior to visiting historical and iconic spots all over Europe.
I remember Arete daily. With all these travels you’d think I’d be ready for whatever life and travel brings. We’ll see what happens in the next chapter. Matt and I are getting ready to go to India in 11 days. I'm going for work and I'll be there for a month, and Matt is coming to help me get over the culture shock (and of course see India) for 2 weeks. We'll start in Mumbai and then make our way to Pune where TIBCO has a house. Here, I can't wait to see, experience, and be part of a whole new series of isms.
To be continued...
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