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Posts Tagged ‘bagels’


The line for breakfast in Martha’s on Church was long, stretching to the sidewalk. I ordered two decaf lattes and bagels to go. I was assailed by a grey, pig-tailed man around my age in Moody Blues t-shirt and crumpled check shorts, intrigued by my accent and “Closing of Winterland” t-shirt, he enquired:

“Do you live in the City?”

“I wish. But no, I’m staying in a cottage a few blocks away for a month”.

“Wow, you Brits really seem to love it here. Love your shirt by the way. I was there”.

“Thanks, and my turn to say wow. I have to make do with the CD and DVD”.

We stepped to one side as the line lengthened further.

“We’ve been going to concerts here for two decades. We were at the Great American Music Hall with Dark Star Orchestra last night”.

“Nice. Y’know, I’ve never seen them, but I’ve heard they’re pretty close to the Dead”.

“Yeah, they play whole shows and last night’s was the Fillmore ’69 which was view of music heaven. And Bob Weir joined them for a couple of numbers”.

“Double wow! They must have been awesome. It’s funny but you guys are wedded to the Dead, while I’ve travelled all over the UK pretty regularly to see concerts. I’ve seen the Stones, Pink Floyd and the Moody Blues, of course”.

“That’s weird but cool, because we’ve probably seen more gigs in the States than we would at home. In the past few years we’ve seen Crosby and Nash, Elvis Costello, the Doobie Brothers, Steve Miller Band, Phil Lesh and Bob Weir all in the city, and Eric Burdon in South Lake Tahoe”.

Another baby boomer further back in the line began to regale us of times following the Dead on tour in the eighties, but was cut short by the welcome announcement that my bagels were ready.

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I have already referred in part to our first full day back in San Francisco (early rising and the trip to the Church and Market branch of Safeway) in the previous two blog articles. With a full month to play with, this was no time for dashing from one tourist attraction to another, but rather to acclimatise ourselves to the neighbourhood.

After breakfast in the apartment, inevitably of granola and sourdough toast, we ventured up the hill on Church Street to 24th Street, the principal retail and dining area of Noe Valley.

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What struck us immediately were the luxuriant flower displays, especially of bougainvillea, draped over shop fronts and garage forecourts alike. Accustomed to visiting in the spring, we had not witnessed their splendour before now.

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Our already full event calendar acquired another entry when we discovered that the Noe Valley Summer Fest was to be held on Saturday 15th of the month, the same day as the first day of the North Beach Festival taking place over that weekend. With the Stern Grove Festival in Golden Gate Park on Sunday, we were going to be busy! Thankfully, the Giants game against the San Diego Padres on the following day was an evening affair.   

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After coffee, served in large bowls, in La Boulange on the intersection of 24th and Sanchez, and a brief reconnaisance of those shops that held our interest, we embarked upon the steep climb up Noe Street to Dolores Park for one of the stellar views across the city.

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Aside from the obvious photo opportunities it affords, Dolores Park is a hugely popular venue for picnics, sunbathing and people watching. And what people watching! There has been a long running feud between members (literally!) of the gay community and city authorities about nude sunbathing, rendered sensitive by the presence of the fun and funky Helen Diller Children’s Playground in its centre.

But the still relatively cool morning meant that the occupants of the park comprised nothing more threatening than a couple of fully-clothed ageing hippies, impossibly cute Shih Poos and workmen (not so cute).

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We made our way courageously (adults are not permitted without being supervised by a child) over the spongy bridge in the middle of the playground towards the majestic Mission Dolores, oldest surviving structure in the city, before branching left to the J Church MUNI Metro tracks that wove alongside the western fringe of the park.

We had a lunch of peanut butter (Janet) and turkey, egg and cheese (me) bagels and iced lattés at the Church Street Café. I am under strict instructions not to post the photos of our respective half-eaten meals, so readers will have to make do with one of your author instead (which some might say was more likely to frighten those of a sensitive disposition).

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Observations and photographs from the afternoon stroll down Castro Street to follow.

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