Posts tagged ‘travel’

15/9/05

I think I just died and went to heaven. I just spent an entire day in a CD shop and still didn’t manage to completely explore it. Amoeba Music is on Haight St — the former centre of hippiedom — and has to be one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen. It is in a former bowling alley and the CDs stretch as far as the eye can see. It claims to stock over a million CDs although now I have visited I doubt this is still the case. And they are all so cheap — almost everything is under US$15 and I picked up lots of really good ones for only US$2. I was particularly impressed by how well represented Melbourne (and Aussie generally) bands were — there were CDs here that you probably wouldn’t find in JB. Anyway, after seven hours there, with but a half hour break for lunch I was just about musicked out, so wandered down Haight St to a real ale pub/brewery my dad had recommended.

Haight St is something of a bittersweet place these days. It still harks back to the Summer of Love, now the best part of 40 years ago. There are shops full of bongs, tie-dye and everything else you might associate with hippies. It still has the colourfulness and easy-going attitude that were the hallmarks of those days. But, in what must be one of the greatest strengths of capitalism — turning any anti-capitalist movement into a new way to make money — it is no longer about pure motives, it is about the green stuff (cash, not hash). The most melancholic part is all the homeless people — largely those so acid-fucked that they still think it is 1967 and that it is only a matter of time before they bring down the Man. SF has a massive homeless problem — something you’d normally associate with a mega-city like NY or LA rather than one with fewer than a million people. It makes what happened in New Orleans seem a lot more plausible if even a relatively well-off city like San Francisco can have such poverty.

Anyway, back to the pub. I was sitting there reading my copy of the Onion (which I’d never realised was available in print) when looking through the gig guide I saw that tonight Alasdair Roberts was playing in a pub downtown. He, in particular his album Farewell Sorrow, has been one of my favourite artists for the last year or so. (He plays traditional British folk, as opposed to Alternative folk which is what I mainly listen to in the genre.) And despite having scoured both the internet and, since I arrived, the street press for every concert that was on while I was here I was finding out about it in a satirical newspaper. There is just so much happening here — of the seven nights I am in SF I am going to gigs for five of them with three of them by bands that would make my ‘gigs of the year’ list in Melbourne — that some little known folk dude from Scotland falls through the cracks. So, instantly recovering from my musicked-outness, I rushed across to the other side of town, again blessing this city’s wonderful public transport system. The gig was amazing. It was in the tiny back room of a pub holding barely 50 people and two of the supports — Marissa Nadler and Jack Rose — were almost as brilliant as Alasdair Roberts. It is just as well I live in the backwater of Melbourne because I don’t think either my bank account or my relationship with Gisela could survive a music scene like San Francisco’s.

14/9/05 (Note I took in to account the effect of the dateline so none of that ‘Oh no, we didn’t make it back in time!’, ‘Oh yes, we did!’ à la Phileas Fog for me.)

So, here I am in the US of A. The first thing that struck me as I went through immigration at LAX was how many employees there were. While in Australia or the UK you’d be lucky to have one person telling people what to do at the passport control queue, here there seemed to be at least seven. No matter how small the potential problem, there seemed someone employed solely to solve it. I guess that is the result in a country of 300 million people that has a relatively low minimum wage and is the home of capitalism. The other thing that struck me most in my five hours in LAX was how truly multiracial it was with pretty much equal numbers of whites, blacks and hispanics and a signifacant minor minority of Asians. It reminded me, as I get reminded every time I go back to the UK, that for all the talk of Australia being a multicultral (admittedly a slightly different concept) society, it is still extremely Anglo-Saxon dominated.

Anyway, that was LA done for me, and it was on to San Francisco. Being too cheap to invest in a cab all the way from the airport I got a train downtown from where I planned to get a taxi to Stella and Leon’s (my aunt and uncle’s) place, a few kms away where I am staying. The train, as all public transport is in this city, was marvelously efficient. But as I left the station I couldn’t find a taxi so I began wandering around looking for one (not wanting to give away I was a tourist by pulling a map out — as if the 70L pack on my back hadn’t already done that). As a first sight of America ‘proper’ (i.e. outside an airport), it was an eye-opening experience. It turns out I had wandered into Tenderloin — both the most curiously named and dodgiest part of SF. It truly felt like I was in GTA. Tempting as it was to jack a car, run a few people over then crash the car into a wall, blowing it up, I managed to resist and extricated myself from this less-than-welcoming part of town, found a cab and removed myself back to white, middle-class suburbia. A note of caution however to anyone else who finds themselves in such a situation: it is probably unnecessary to let out a Ned Flanders-ish scream when you see three big black guys with baseball bats walking towards you. It turns out that in this country that as well as using them to smash people’s heads in, they have found another use for them — playing baseball.

There are plenty of other oddities about this place. I am still struggling with the money and its greenness. My inability to tell the notes apart without a few minutes to study them and a book on US history to allow me to identify the presidents adorning them means I will invariably just pay in 20s and am very rapidly converting all my currency to one dollar bills and one cent coins. As I do whenever I travel I am again coming to the conclusion that Australia’s greatest ever act was doing away with one and two cent coins. I am already dreading having to remove my belt when I go through security when I fly to NY as the weight of pennies in my pocket will no doubt pull my pants down. In addition to driving on the wrong side of the road (which has already nearly got me run over a number of times), it turns that their taps and jars also work the wrong way. If I had a penny for every time I have spent ten minutes trying to twist a ‘tight’ lid/tap only to realise I’d been turning it in the wrong direction and had to spend the next ten minutes trying to turn the now actually tight lid/tap in the correct direction, my pants would be falling down even without the removal of my belt.

Anyway, that was my first day in America. Stay tuned – day two highlights are coming right up.